Ghost of a Child

The ghost of a child lingers,
Standing before me with untainted eyes,
Covered by rose-colored glasses,
To which the world appears fresh;
And its hardships are voyages,
On which we have yet to embark.

This child, it haunts me
While I'm awake and in my dreams,
Pouring nursery rhymes into my thirsty ear,
Silently rebuking my every action;
He sits across from me patiently,
Unaffected by the sway of time.

His unblemished, curious face
Follows me where'er I go,
Untarnished by my personal demons,
Observing my descent into darkness;
Though his mouth raises no protest,
His eyes instill in me a deluge of tears.

I see in his eyes a far-off magical world,
Where fascination takes hold of the mind
And imagination reigns unchallenged,
A world free from the excesses of sin;
His bright blue eyes offer invitation,
But my twisted fantasies lie elsewhere.

This boy, whose childhood was robbed
At a young age by a string of fiery words
Catapulted from a loved one's cold lips,
Owes his gruesome murder to someone else;
For his death lies on my bloodied hands,
And his ghost will haunt my conscience evermore.