She was barely eleven,
when her mama married an addict.
Heroin and alcohol consumed him;
a paranoid, controlling convict.
No longer was she allowed to play,
there were a new set of rules.
No going outside, no talking to boys,
always come straight home from school.
Shorts and jeans went in the trash;
he said she looked like a tease.
Mama bought her skirts to wear;
they had to go past her knees.
Her hair was cut 3 inches short;
which made her very sad.
Mama let him have control;
’cause she did not want him mad.
The little girl watched him shoot up;
he went from bad to worse.
Mama worked nights, was not around;
the little girl felt so cursed.
Doing chores for hours on end,
he leered at her from a distance.
One day she was doing dishes;
he was on her in an instant.
His arms went around her from behind;
she could feel his hot breath on her neck.
Frozen in fear, she behaved as he asked;
she knew he would keep her in check.
He felt her up through her clothes;
which made her cry in fear.
With nowhere to go, she ran to her room;
sat huddled in a corner in tears.
He came in, stood guard by the door;
threatening for hours on end.
“Do not tell, or you will pay,
to an orphanage, I will send”.
Mama came home late that night;
so there was no chance to share.
The very next day, she told her tale;
mama really did not care.
Every night for months on end,
he came into her room.
No other purpose, but to scare;
her life was filled with doom.
Children are abused every day;
they rely on parents to protect.
Some little children have no one;
they live a life of neglect.
© Debra McLain
Excerpt from the book “To Conquer Or Die Trying”
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