Johnny

“…There’s a crack in my ceiling and from there the rain pours. 
Every time I try to fix it, it only goes worse.
There’s a crack in my ceiling and from there I recall,
The first time I saw it when from my eyes tears did fall.”

This poem had become the story of his life and it went back to when he was seven.
His name was Johnny. Pure and sweet his heart had been before the maid and his uncle drained out the purity from him.
 Only a little boy was he, but the maid had her way with him.
She swore she’d buy him candies if only he’d keep her secret with him.
Only a little boy was he when his uncle had his many ways with him.
He swore he’d kill him if he’d say as little as a hmmm.
His daddy had no idea for he was too busy to even read the unwritten that Johnny wrote.
His mother would never have guessed for she trusted her brother and the maid whom she did dote.
This is the story of Johnny, a boy who had but one need.
He hoped, prayed, wished to be heard, spared and not killed.
His life was as short as a breath but like a breath there was a moment he did live.
His eyes pleaded to his defilers
But they had been long blinded by their many inordinate desires
His eyes pleaded to his parents
But something else blinded them from his many rants
Johnny was dying
This was no knowledge for any offspring
The uncle or was it the maid must have diseased him
 Diseased him till his future was dim
“Too late, it’s too late!” cried the doctor
“What a fate!” cried they whom we’d do no more than concur
“I wish I knew!” cried the ones meant to have parented him
“I didn’t mean to kill him” cried the ones in whose hands his destiny had been
His story has now come to an end
For to everything under the heavens there is an end.
THE END.