Quick, quick look away
If we meet her eyes our hearts will melt and our emotions will have to pay.
No, no it is no business of ours
She is not our child, no matter how hungry she looks or the fact she is out all hours.
Hush , hush she is screaming again
That is not naughtiness that is real pain.
Shall we ring ..well maybe not,
Have you seen the size of her mother’s boyfriend and his temper is hot.
Look, look she is out there again
Hardly any clothes on and it is poring with rain.
Look, look at those bruises on her legs and arms.
She is limping, look are those cigarette burns on her palms.
Why , why did we not say?
We saw the neglect get worse everyday.
We saw the violence getting worse,
We heard the boyfriend shout at her and curse.
We saw the way they both went out each night
Leaving her home, didn’t we all say that, that was not right.
OH! now that is so sad we all knew it was happening
But we said nothing and now we feel so sad.
That poor little might so small and defenseless
Last night by that brute was beaten senseless.
The ambulance came early this morning and took her away
She was dead on arrival …..isn’t that what they say.
So go one hold your heads up if you can
You all let a tiny girl’s life be taken by a shit of an excuse for a man, and a woman to weak to care for that child.
Now she is also expecting another baby to replace her in a short while.
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Photo credits goodnews4u.net/
What are those tears what do they say
What is this little one here trying to say.
Is he being beaten, starved or sexually abused is hurting or has he passed pain
Has he already lost his innocence never to find it again.
Are his parents addicts to worried about their next fix
To worry about him as he plays with his bricks.
He has so few toys that these bricks are so important to him
He sleeps with them eats with them in their special tin.
The floor is dirty and littered with muck
And there are discarded needles which his thin little legs have already pierced and stuck.
No food in the fridge and the cupboards are bare
He is thirsty and hungry but his parents no longer have the will to care.
Sometimes he finds his way out of doors
And goes through the rubbish risking rats and cats claws.
He just might strike lucky and find some food
Then he will drink from a puddle , yes this does sound crude!
If they find him it will be too late,
Hunger, neglect and needles sticks have decided his fate.
They will say he is feral the poor little soul
Who knows nothing of being loved and cradled against the cold.
Can this happen how can this be true……….
Yes it does all around us , yes I am telling you true.
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Two more poems I have written for Child Abuse Awareness Month.
Running for my life
I need a rest
willowdot21 
