Let me tell you a story, Kyle Boyd

This is a poem by a friend of mine. He has given me permision to put it on here. I don't know the meaning behind it but feel free to comment and I will get hos replies. 

Let me tell you a story

By Kyle Boyd

Let me tell you a story, about Heaven and about Hell

First though, know this: Jesus loves me and He loves you as well

 

“I am three-and-three-quarters”, I proudly exclaim

To the kind-looking gentleman, who asked me my age

 

He’s my mummy’s new friend, and they both love to share

They share kisses and cuddles, and he plays with her hair

 

I have loads of friends, like my mummy does, too

But mummy’s friends kiss her, that’s not what mine do

 

Her friend knows I love sweeties; I’m too young to know bribes

So indeed I indulged, as I watched them imbibe

 

Mummy smelled some white sand and couldn’t hold up her head

But just like Prince Charming, her friend took her to bed

 

Said he’d take care of me, too; and would help me prepare

For a special kind of love, and I need not be scared

 

I learned love can be hidden, and with a warm, calm resolve

He reached inside me to find it, but instead took my soul

 

“I’m twenty-fucking-five”, I bark with disgust

To the posh twat who thinks I’m forty, who I met on the bus

 

I only asked him for a drink, coz the dole didn’t pay

“Don’t effin’ flatter yourself, mate. You ain’t my type, anyway”

 

Loads of people love me, not just when I’m on my back

Kisses are overrated anyway, kisses don’t pay for smack

 

They know how much I need it, and desperation has no bounds

So indeed they indulge; I do my shift on the ground

 

I remember once, I did care, about what they thought

I tried to love, but what can I do? I’m just a filthy fucking whore

 

Of course, one day, my life gave up; though God, He knew me true

Now I can be free of all my wrongs, but this story is for you

 

We were blessed with choice, though choice can lead us stray

That little girl wanted to love, but sin took her away

 

If nothing else, then understand, that we are not to judge

Sometimes we’re wrong, so why not set, our default mode to ‘love’?

The Boy

This has a been a weekend of mixed emotions and I tried to write something new but found it very difficult. I am not seeing Luke for a few weeks and have found it really hard this time to say goodbye, so I thought I would use an old poem for tonight and upload a new one asap. Hope you like it. 
The Boy

One day, on my road, a boy fell down

He gashed his knee on the dirty ground

I helped him up and looked at his face

Which was worried and scared; a complete disgrace

I wandered his eyes; they seemed so cold

They looked unloved and very old

They’d known the horrors that not many could

And lived with them longer than anyone should

I dusted him down and pulled him close

But his faded eyes haunt me like ghosts

I never thanked that little boy who was blind

Because after he went he left something behind

A message to be held in my memory,

That there are some horrors you just can’t see…