An Original Poem

Take Care in The Raising of a Child

Abuse does not have to be physical. It can go on under people’s very nose so skillfully perpetrated that only the victim realizes the crime.

The ten thousand injuries Had she borne As best she could The nature of the soul Expressed Gave utterance But failed to make itself heard Much less felt To console The grief too great To minister to So her virtuoso spirit fled Became but a thing of Another life That belonged to Another girl Just more dreams That came when she slept She could not hold them back Could not quash their Hateful hopefulness Drowning in her agony Of mediocrity She just wished to forget that She had once been thought To have talent A future worth living Deceit given is deceit learned So on she smiled Pretended Play acted For all the world’s a stage, is it not? To teach a child self immolation Is the greatest sin of all Now silent, alone Without hope of love or success Death her only eventual future Perhaps you believe you have made For yourself Perfection of happiness But always remember In some way you are bound To reap what you have sown For a sin of this magnitude Never goes unanswered

When we manipulate, control and emotionally abuse a child, fail to see it as anything other than an extension of ourselves, there only for our own pleasure and purpose, we will never know what it is to ever connect with or be truly loved by them. No matter what agony they go on to experience, what wasted potential they become unable to realize, ours will ultimately be far greater.

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