In the basement

The night was cold and late, my hands beginning to shake, with a heavy head bobbing up and down, trying its best to stay awake, Come closer, come and stay, he says, patting a spot for me to lay, If I could only know, I was only going to stay awake, on his lap, the way he stared and grinned at my fate, I pray for my safety, I pray for my well-being, but we both know that it's far too late, His grip is tight, He just might do it tonight, His hold on my thighs, the guilt in my eyes, As I begged and pleaded, there was no exit from the burden of being in his time, A hand up my shirt a hand on my thighs, the pain in my eyes, As time went by, the more I cried, The Scene he left, An eight-year difference, what a cry baby…