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A very sad poem based on a very sad reality and conversation in my home town.


Imageby Abby Mooney29 Jan 2014

When he was four,
He was cupcakes and smiles,
Chocolate kisses,
And cuddles for miles.
He was worms and dirt,
Bangers and mash,
He was 'stand there and wait,
Whilst mum get some cash!'

When he was six,
He was cars and action men,
He was dress up,
With no get up,
He was late for school again.

When he was ten,
He was still scared of the dark,
The little boy with no parents,
And a grazed knee on the park.
He was 'go play in your room!'
Or 'I don't wanna know!'
The boy at parents evening,
Who's parents never show.

When he hit twelve,
He was anger and rage!
Ripping his hatred,
Like the world was a page!
He was arms and legs,
Punches and swears,
He was phone calls to parents,
Who don't fuckin' care.

At aged fourteen,
He was a strapping lad,
Who fell out of a tree,
It was a black eye from dad.
He was smart,
But outsmarted,
He couldn't say a word,
At age fourteen,
He couldn't be heard.

At age 16 enough was enough.
He was the lad,
That you labelled rough.
Dad had been screaming,
It was going too far,
He grabbed a handful of his stuff,
And stuffed it in the car,
He was fleeing,
The middle of the night,
He was youth,
And answers,
And flight,
And fright.

He was the body,
They pulled out through the door,
He'd had tears in his eyes,
He couldn't see any more,
The car wasn't his,
So what does society say?
Another young thief,
Deserved it anyway.

He was cupcakes and smiles,
And chocolate kisses.
Here lies the the body,
Of the child that nobody misses.