She was just a frail soul,
The kind of girl no one should know.
Her wounds were nothing but mere bumps,
And the ones that gave her lips lumps,
Those were all her fault.
She was a little cry baby,
Always screaming, "mommy save me",
But mother was never there,
And daddy always said she didn't care.
She knew it must be her fault.
Now she no longer knows such pain,
And daddy has found his own shame.
Mommy cries every eighteenth of November
Because daddy killed Cynthia Simber.
To this day it was all her fault.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Powerful write. This makes me think of the emotional toll abuse can have on victims. The person in the poem that felt the blame seemed to change at the end, though with the part of the mother crying. Good luck in the contest.
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