Over fifty but five years old

Yet a scared little boy

On a quest for perfection

Normalcy is just an illusion

A foregone conclusion

Waiting on execution

Looking for another new toy

So timid, and yet so bold.
Truth held hostage by lies

Memories fade in and out 

Not strong enough to fight 

Not big enough to escape

He endures a hideous rape

Terrors in the dark of night

Afraid of what it is all about

A demon with familiar eyes.
It is nothing more than vanity

The primal need to conquer 

Innocence stolen too soon

Absolutely nowhere to run

He should be out having fun

Incest beneath the full moon

Stale words begin to slur

Seed breeding more insanity.
Hold on little boy, while you can

His armor opens yet another crack

Be still, quiet, and just submit

No one will ever really believe 

The punishments he did receive

Sketches he can never forget

Odd moments hail a flashback

Five years old, and a strange old man.

– Lou Lehman Sams

Disclaimer: No, I am not an incest survivor, & this fictional work is not intended to represent any one individual, whether living or dead. 


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I am a Southern Belle, through and through. Born and raised in North Alabama, where my family settled in 1808, when the area was still the Mississippi Territory, I come from a line of Planters, Patriots, and Pioneers. They were people who were unafraid to take risks, who said what they believed, and who honored God and their Country. Like my ancestors before me, I have strong values, believing that the Golden Rule is indeed golden. I write as a way to relate and as a release. I hope that my words may inspire, challenge and provoke one to thinking about how extraordinary things can come out of ordinary places, people, and things.

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