Amerika

It was late when she was off to see Skippy
He was very nice when she had visited him before.
He liked his presents and his fine complements
And she was happy to visit him once more.

But this time he had brought no presents
nor did he have many complements to give.
“Hello my dear,” he took her by the hand
and led her off to be alone.

He led her into a dark room,
She didn’t like the dark
But she held tight to his hand and felt quite safe
knowing Skippy would protect her from harm.

Then suddenly, Skippy got angry.
What had the poor girl done wrong?
When she felt his hands moving slowly beneath her dress
She did not want to be with Skippy anymore.

There was a knife tucked safely in her pocket
The one from her grandfather long ago.
“It’s not a toy,” he had warned her
but this was no time for the rules.

Hidden in the cover of darkness
She quietly pulled the knife out from her pocket,
She opened it
And Skippy did not see a thing.

Before he knew what was coming,
She forced the blade into his thigh.
Then again and again she stabbed angry Skippy
His screams could be heard down the hall.

Tags: john podesta, little girl, pedogate, poem, poetry, skippy