My father told me to close my eyes whenever he watched a horror.
It might seem like he was protecting me from fear.
But as I grew older, I thought that maybe he was protecting himself from fear. Maybe, I don’t know, he feared that if I saw the gore and terror, that I wouldn’t finch.
I used to peek through my fingers when he told me to keep them tight over my face.
I didn’t squirm at the images, my heart didn’t race.
I didn’t know what physical pain was, so couldn’t relate.
To be honest I still don’t know what it is.
What pains me most to contemplate,
Is all the courage that it would take,
To tell my dad that I have seen,
An A to Z of the obscene.