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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=484390" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A disturbed child</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">For hours and days we talked, and there was that portion <br>Of that honest conversation when he opened a certain <br>Cabinet where a black-covered diary contains a page of the story </div><div style="margin:10px 0">About a disturbed child, <br>A confused child, not because he was not born like <br>Any other new born child, on a package-deal of innocence <br>For a start of his existence, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A happy child, a normal child with a <br>Loving and caring ma and pa and excited siblings <br>To receive him as another playmate added to their house, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">At most, the conversation changed to a slow motion <br>In that portion, <br>He showed some serious indications, a gaze of a man, <br>Undistracted by her poise for casualness and <br>A consideration that this is nothing but another kind <br>Of a light conversation unlike no other, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is not, this is serious, he said, because this is true and this really <br>Happened, the cabinet and the diary are nothing but <br>Fronts to fictional realities, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was the disturbed child, and he is going to tell her about it, <br>Today, <br>He did not have a happy childhood, as he once told the Jesuits, <br>Who accepted him to their fold, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And for which he, of course took his graceful exit, <br>Because he is a liar, <br>He began talking about some bamboo sticks which hit him, <br>The sack which enclosed him, the rope which hanged him <br>On the kitchen beam, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ants that bit him while he <br>Kneeled on mongo beans under a scorching sun, and the mother <br>He still very well remembers, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She was not able to do anything to save him. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She too was part of <br>That disturbance, the slap that still left a mark of humiliation on his <br>Left cheek, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A scar on his childhood, forever. She died earlier than expected. <br>He, the villain, did not. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not the child, who later escaped from hell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">that child though disturbed by his past, is now given the right to speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=484390" data-title="A disturbed child de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="For hours and days we talked, and there was that portion 
Of that honest conversation when he opened a certain 
Cabinet where a black-covered diary contains a page of the story 

About a disturbed child, 
A confused child, not because he was not b..."></div>
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