Deprived Childhood


My Apartment
3127 Blakeley Avenue apt. #5
United States
44° 47' 11.6736" N, 91° 27' 55.3176" W

You are ungrateful

Lost in a world

Where alcohol is your therapist

And you hit your little girl


She cries when she touches

The bruise on her face

A soft and plush cheek

Had just gone to waste


Her aunt jumped

She didn’t fly

Her cousin was with her

They cannot deny


The situation

Of death itself

They cannot close the book

And put it back on the shelf


But of course its her fault

Her battle will not be won

But she has to learn

What she has done


Little does she know

She did not do a thing

But she continues to fly

With a broken wing


The smoke from your cigarette

Reminds her of years

Of her life hiding

in constant fear


Her friends don’t have a clue

She smiles likes it okay

A secret you don’t know

She longs to run away


Afraid to speak

Her mind and harm

You let her paint

Red scars on her arm


You do not comprehend

Or care to know

That when you are high

She is low


Dark nights you come back

An argument breaks

On how you treat her

She’s trying to escape


All she’s asking

Is to always be there

Be the mother she wants

And don’t pretend to care



Guide that inspired this poem: 


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