Rusty iron bars cross the window on the top floor
Of the small, lonely, white house on the corner
The yard is plain
No flowers, no decorations
Just overgrown grass
And crumbling concrete steps

As one passes this house
One cannot help but stare
And wonder why,
It is so very bare
And why that window on the top floor
Is barred, preventing escape to the world

Is this house a prison?
Is there a criminal locked up inside?
Right next the where unsuspecting neighbors abide
Is there an animal? A monster of sorts?
Savage and hideous
Being hidden from all who walk along this course

What is the secret?
That causes all who pass
To become somewhat frightened
And hasten his pace
Is there a thief?
A molester?
A killer?
Is there someone insane?
Schizophrenic?
Deranged?

One's mind becomes the set of a horror film
When one sees this eerie abode
But the true story of this house
Is much more sad than it is haunting or unnerving
It's story causes it to seem a little more like a home

For what is shut up in that small room
On the very tippy top floor
Is not a monster, nor a criminal, nor a rabid dog
It is something that means no harm

Behind those iron bars
There is just a man
And though he is large
In his mind he is small
His mind tells him that he is a ten year old boy

He knows not what he does
So for his own protection
Escape has been made an impossible feat
Though this fact is not know by all who may pass him
Which is the cause of such rumors and mistaken reasoning