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Sad Childhood Poems | Sad Poems About Childhood

These Sad Childhood poems are examples of Sad poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of Sad Childhood poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

Friendship

                                   Friendship
Up the road from where we lived two children came to stay
My parents knew their grandma well they talked 'most every day
A happy boy a little odd but always was so kind
I never was ashamed to say he was a friend of mine
His sister was my brother's age the boy younger than me
Products of a broken home back then a rarity
His drool was always running down he couldn't make it stop
The other kids poked fun at him they called him Slobber Slop
I never saw him fight no one I never saw him cry
His sister did
My brother did
And sadly so did I
Two years went by their dad came back time for them to fly
His eyes teared at my house  that day as he hugged us all goodbye
I lived my life I took a wife we bought a brand new home
Out of the blue one day a knock my how he had grown
Six foot three two twenty five a mountain of a man
His drool had stopped
His tears had not
He reached and took my hand
He'd never forgot the kindness shown
Though we were miles apart
The love we shared as boyhood friends
Still lived within our hearts.


  Posted on another website under my pen name "poemdog" Daniel Turner

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? | |

Questions for Dad

How do you do it...
   arrested again.
Paroled for awhile
   then back to the pen.
We know you don't mean it.
   We know that you care.
But when will you show it?
   When and where?
As much as we love you
   our hate runs that strong.
Why can't you stay with us?
   What are we doing wrong?
Are your friends to blame?
   Did they help cause this bust?
What should we feel?
   Who do we trust?
Who do we love?
    Who should we hate?
Why do you burden us
    with all your stuff
       on our plate?
It's too much to handle,
     we're too young to deal.
With the heartache we have,
     with the pain that we feel.

Your our Daddy, our idol,
     our mentor for sure.
Our anger, our hope,
     we need you here more.
Your smile, our tears
     your our happiness found.
Our twinkle, our fears,
     the reason we frown.
You want us to love you
     you want us to care
But Daddy, how can we...
     when your never there!

Copyright © karin herrman | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse | |

Blink

I had a dream last night
that I was five years old
I was taken back to the time
When my house was sold

As I lay there lost within a dream, 
Sleeping in my bed,
Memories of the good ol' days
Circled in my head

I walked a narrow trail not knowing of it's end
Then suddenly between the trees stood my lifelong friend.
I watched as we grew older;
How quickly the time had passed. 
All these years behind us
Had come and gone so fast.

Her graduation day had come;
I'd never been so proud.
When she walked onto the stage that day
All dressed in cap and gown;
I watched and faked a smile
While my whole world turned upside-down.
I realized that this was no dream 
And I couldn't help but think;
Of all these years that passed us by
When all I did was blink

Copyright © Jacob Aldana | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Abused

Belt in hand 
Red of face 
Eyes bulging into space 
The children scatter every place 

His temper is in full bloom 
They know they will pay for it soon 
Tiny hands and tear stained faces 
They silently pray from their hiding places 

"Someone, anyone, please come and protect them" they plead 
"For if not soon they will bleed"
The father rises and calls to each one 
And so it has begun 

Tenatively each steps forward 
Knowing their fate 
With a sadistic gleam in his eye 
The belt finds it's mark 

On soft skin, it leaves it's stark welts
Tears flowing fast
Live rivers in spring 
The terrified kids can do nothing 

On and on he punishes them 
Until they lay like broken toys 
They lie so still 
But he continues to enforce his will 

There is no help
No reprieve 
And worst of all 
This isn't the end 

Tomorrow it all begins again!

Copyright © Bernadette Langer | Year Posted 2005

Details | Rhyme | |

She Died Right There Before Me

To me, she could've said anything
I wanted so badly to hear her say,
"I love you and I'm gonna try."
But all she said is "I just can't stay."
She looked away, I stared her down.
I needed to see her eyes.
She looked at me and that's when I knew...
THIS IS THE DAY MY MOTHER DIES.
She died right there before me.
I watched her fade away.
Her eyes were glossing over
as I begged her "PLEASE, JUST STAY!"
She said goodbye and drove away.
I've learned to deal with loss.
But, now she says "I'm coming back!"
She doesn't know the cost.
To me she's dead, she can't come back.
She'll have to remember the day
that she died right there before me
when she said she couldn't stay.

Copyright © Mary Nagy | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse | |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

I Used To Be a Dreamer

I used to be a dreamer Growing up within my mind, I was no heavy sleeper By creativity confined I used to be a hero One day, and then the next I could've been Jack Sparrow Prancing between the decks I used to live in a circus With carousels and flying cats, I'd muck about without a purpose All day out, with Mr. Tall Hat I used to be a rarity From anyone else, I was unique I used to live in fantasy Believed in fairy tales, even magic Today, I am another person As normal as they define Too scared to be uncommon Afraid to be left behind Today, I live in blunt reality A world of black and white, that outlaws every little oddity and punish them on sight I have been dead before, When they took my dreams away.

Copyright © Christy NP | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

For Suzanne, Green and Golden

“The October night comes down; returning as before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.”
----- “Portrait of a Lady;” T. S. Eliot

A golden afternoon,
Late October, and my thoughts
Are all of you, Suzanne…
Vestiges of your being
Appear on visages of 
A hundred different people;
But none are you, not one 
As green,  as golden.

Hard it is to know no miracle
Will mend, no giddy hope assuage,
The scourge that slowly puts an end
To our valiant green and golden girl.
Memory takes us to days of indolence,
Of innocence, of children lying on a levee,
Deep in lush, green, summer clover --
In sunlight almost as golden
As your hair -- beside a flowing river
Bearing away our golden hours
And the painless green  of youth.
 
Now, in your green room, reclined
In shadow, our golden girl reposes.
Your courage lights the coming night
That does not dim the gold and green
You always shared, and still you share.







Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad | |

Disturbed Child

That disturbed child
The teen girl with no friends, 
and is rejected by her loved ones
She feels broken inside,
like theres no other choice
She takes the iron razor, 
she puts it to her arm and hopes the pain will fade,
but in the end it only makes her feel worse
She does this to herself not because she is sad, 
but because she doesn't think any one cares
She thinks 
What if I put this razor to my throat,
and ended my life
Would they care then?
She feels like no one cares 
What she doesn't realize is, 
if she died a river of tears would come,
even faster then the blood would run from her
If she only knew life can be brighter 
If she would only see, 
that she is loved
That disturbed child, 
We miss her
and theres no getting her back
What could we have done
Was there any changing her mind
Only God knows

Copyright © Trevor Bain | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 

Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Dream, And Dream, And Dream

I'll Dream

. And Dream

. . And Dream

I'll dream until my soul awakes, And it's time for youth to part I'll dream until my passion breaks, And this child's abandoned heart I'll dream a lost and former friend, The innocence I've held to tight Before the colors blur, and blend, I'll dream of who I was tonight Before my tears drip down, and dry, I'll dream with colors pure and gold Before the innocence inside me dies, And childhood is hardened cold I'll dream as if absorbed in youth, Illusion moonlight show'ring light Blind to pain and awful truth, I'll dream of who I was tonight.
10/6/2011 "Dreams"

Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2011

Details | Narrative | |

The Sugar Cube House

Love is a season.
And holidays mark the seasons, and years like signs in the road,
reflecting the bumps in our journey, but showing us a way back home.

Sixteen, in pajamas, watching the rain pelt down,
it was long past midnight, Christmas eve.
Twinkling lights on one house across the road, stared back at me.
It was if they were trying to fill our dark house with color.
The block was filled with a hundred lighted windows.
But the blackness of our own, somehow, seemed more appropriate.  

There was no Christmas tree in our house that year.
I suppose Dad felt it was too soon, or perhaps just the effort to get through each day
had taken all the strength he had.
We had stayed up and watched a Christmas program together.
Perry Como, I think it was, for I think I remember he sang "Ava Maria", and Dad got teary eyed.
My brother had come home from the Air Force earlier that week,
trying to help bring us a bit of cheer,....at least, for awhile,
but he had been called back to duty, and I missed him terribly.

The house was silent after Dad had gone to bed.
I wasn't sleepy,....and it was lonely looking out at the cold night
It seemed the whole world was sleeping, waiting for Christmas.
                                 
As I finally headed for bed, I noticed a light had been left on in the front coat closet.
I opened the door, and looking up, to pull the chain, I noticed the box.
The shoe box that had kept the sugar cube house, safe, dry, and out of harm's way.

A sugar cube house that Mom and I had made together when I was 8 years old. 
Little sugar cubes stacked into walls, and a roof, glued together with red frosting.
We had copied one out of her Good Housekeeping magazine that year,
and had surrounded it with little trees, and a oval mirror pond, and items we had found at the 5 and 10 cent store.  She had carefully packed it all away last year.
After her last Christmas.

Late into the night, I sat in the dimness of the house, laying out the sugary scene on the fireplace mantel....just as Mom would have done.

When the freckled morning moved into day...I woke on the sofa...Dad sitting next to me.  He had covered me with a warm blanket, and had fallen asleep beside me.

After breakfast....he disappeared outside, and soon came in carrying a sorry looking branch from our old evergreen tree. 

We decorated that bedraggled branch...it wasn't the most beautiful tree we had ever had, but it brought Christmas back to my family.
_______________________________________________________________

For Deb's Contest: A Christmas Tale
(Inspired by "The Match Girl" By H.C. Anderson

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry | |

Fatherless Child

There once was a day I would watch every airplane.
Praying you was on it to come take me away.
As a child I wanted you around until the day, you actually came.
The day you came is the day my life forever changed.
I remember as if it was yesterday when you physically violated me.
Mental visions as early as the age of eight, but old enough to vociferate.
Visualizing mental pictures in my mind while I am awake very aware of the improper abuse I take.
Your body on me feels something like an autopsy of a dead body.
While you lay on top of me as you press aggressively on me.
Against my will your force kept me still.
I am trying to understand if you recognize who I am.
I try to say no hoping you can comprehend; I am weakling as you apprehend.
Mentally and physically I became involuntarily your property. 
A main character in a horror story, and you were my predatory.
I asked “God why?” as I bare to stare into his eyes.
This is not thee love I seek; all I wanted was my father to love me, but not like this injustice of violation of my rights.
This love is not real; not the love I wished to feel.
As he tries to stick his tongue into my mouth too young to know what this is all about.
I grip my lips painfully tight as he tries to slip his tongue inside.
I close them tighter with all my might, as he whispers, “let me love you right” 
I beg him to leave as he pried my legs open with his knees my insides scream “somebody please help me!”
As he whispers how much he loves me I’m praying for God to just kill me.
I rather be dead then a man’s punching bag.
As I lay there my body was dead, and I laid my soul to rest.
I looked around the room and seen the Old Spice on the desk the same fragrance he wore around his neck.
The sun began to rise as he began to close my thighs.
In that moment in time I had made up my mind any man that ever say they love me was just telling lies.
I learned the hard way that love does not kill your inside; love does not take your pride.
A fatherless child I shall forever reside.
Every day that passes that little eight-year-old girl dies slowly inside.
Asking Jesus,” Why permit this?” and he slowly whispers…as I gently whimpers, “faith is the light that guide you through the darkness, my words reflecting as a lamp unto my feet.”
“Walk unto my path I’m here to carry the weak, come into me you are weary and overburdened. I will carry the pain you have obtained.”
“I am your father and you are my child you are never fatherless because I’m always around.”

Copyright © twanna Irisha | Year Posted 2012

Details | Narrative | |

Deer Crossing

I'm sitting cross legged on the side of the road
while Dad holds my shoulders, in trying to console me,
but tears, uncontrolled, keep tumbling down.
Most stunning, right now, is the fear, I've not known
Never before, .....had I felt so alone.

Reality has settled, like darkness around me
A first-time encounter with death and it's toll
Though, how many times, I have played out the role? 

It was always the same.....
Just a game to be played
The drama?  Just kid's-stuff.....who knew what it meant?

Bang, Bang you're dead!...
Point a finger .... he's dead
A stab, rubber swords, ... at my eight year old heart ?
While slowly, with drama, we played out the parts
Our death scenes, .....pretending to take a last breath
Then, back on our knees, and up in a flash
ready again, to reverse all the rules......
Death wasn't real........and never this cruel

Tonight,  driving home 
a deer out of nowhere, 
A thump, and a jar, a flash in the light
And in the dash of a moment, ....a crumpling crash
Make-believe shatters, in the path of our car

Dad reaching his hand, to check I'm alright
Then  opens the door out into the night
Reluctantly I follow his somber silhouette
And met by a moment I'll never forget

The air bitter cold, has taken our breaths
I turn eyes away, but now it's too late
Glass lifeless eyes stare back in the lights
I'm strangled by silence, and the shattering sight
as still and cold, as real as if stones,  
The deer's lifeless eyes, stare into the night
I feel such a change in the stars and the sky
I felt something die, in a child's heart tonight


_____________________________________________

9/1/15 
Carrie Richards
For Trashed #2 Contest: Sponsor: Broken Wings

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? | |

Anger Pain and Dramatic Stress

Anger, pain and dramatic stress 
The 3 things that I possess
Me, Reggie is okay at times
I sometimes choose to confide in my rhymes
I express my feelings through a pen
Just like some women get satisfaction through men.
This isn’t a poem because this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast, just too fast to be caught.
I hate being stressed
Just like I hate being possessed
I don’t mean to sound evil and mean
But I am different from the other people you have seen.
This is not a poem…this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast that they can’t be caught.
I have it good to some…others have it good to me
Some don’t realize how hard it is to be
A poet…it’s hard writin’ poetry with a lot of feeling
You feel forced to write something appealing
You break down cause cus’ you feel an obligation
To write good poetry that there breaks your concentration
I found a solution that my mind’s fighting
Maybe I should stop all the poetry and all the writing
These are fast ideas too fast to be caught
This isn’t a poem this is just a thought

Copyright © Reginald Sellers | Year Posted 2005

Details | Rhyme | |

Dear Stranger,

I tried my best
To show you part of me.
The side of me
You've never seen.

I'm more than a daughter;
I'm an artist, a writer,
A sister, a friend
And now to you a stranger.

I have a question,
Have you ever realized
That I have my own voice
And I have my own life?

I'm not relinquishing my soul--
I won't sell it to anyone.
If I can't be myself
Then who will I become?

I have a mind of my own,
A heart and gifts.
I have a life of my own
And it's mine to live.

Yes, you gave me life,
But it's not yours to give.
You gave me this life
So I can learn to live.

Tell me, have we met?
Have you ever seen me?
Or did you just see my music,
My tee shirts and jeans?

It's not what I look like,
It's how I look at myself.
I'm embarrassed to show you it.
Only you and no one else.

Don't be disappointed,
Mad or upset.
Be happy I have morals,
A mind and self-respect.

I'm the person I want to be.
I stay true to myself,
Meaning I'm me.
I'm me for no one else.

I'm smart and independent
Because you made me this way.
I'm no longer fearful and afraid,
That's not how I wanted to stay.

Now do you know me?
Or should I continue?
I'm making you realize,
I'm not being rude.

So make your decision.
Please, I just want an answer.
Not to be disrespectful,
But are you my mom or my mother?

Copyright © Skylar Rae Montgomery | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

An Unspeakable Hurt

Sleeping in your crib, you were curled onto your side, A thumb inside your mouth, a blanket cuddled in your arm. Only 18 months old, your baby blue eyes so beautiful, How could anyone bruise you this way, your innocence lost, Who was it who hurt you like this, if only you could talk. You take a bottle from me and nuzzle into my grasp, I want to protect you from any more harm and pain, All I can do right now, is love and care for you with all I have, And give your medications that will make you strong again. So I kiss you good night and place you back in your crib, May your night be filled with good fairies and sweet dreams. Then Social Services will take you away when you are well, I only hope and pray that you will be safe now forever more. **A true story from my Nursing career working in Pediatrics. Written by Lee Ramage September 19, 2011 For Debbie Guzzi’s contest “Children” Won 8th place

Copyright © Lee Ramage | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

In Her Fathers Arms

The evening star glowing in a dust choked sky. A girl stands by a window, with a tear in her eye. She stares at the scene, hardly visible through the grime. She whispers in the wind, “Bring my Dad home this time” She opens the window, and climbs outside, Having a flashlight, in her hand, as her guide. Its glow shows the sides of the street. She’s afraid for what the light will meet Bodies piled everywhere she turns, She wants to go home, and never return. What brought this fate upon her town? All her emotions are stripped and torn down. A frightening sound explodes in her ear. Shadows in the road now appear. She run and hides behind a broken wall Praying to god the rest doesn’t fall. Footsteps coming closer to her She can’t tell who because it’s all a blur She backs away further so not to be seen in light, Quieting her heart pounding from fright. Gun shots and screams fill the air, All these sounds, her ears couldn’t bear. A slight whimper slips from her lips, And over the broken stone she trips. The shadows run closer, showering her heart with fear, She wishes they would just disappear. They pass by her; she fills with delight, She just wants to see her dad tonight. She shines the light, to show her place, And to the shine comes a familiar face. She doesn’t understand who’s to blame Because on the tag shows her father’s name. She holds in her tears and refrains from crying. She falls to the ground where her dad was lying. She lifts his arm and buries her face in his chest. She closes her eyes wanting to forget the rest. The shadows emerge yet she doesn’t see, How close the end for her would be. They look down at her, aim, shoot, and fire. Being with her dad is her only desire. The night had ended causing a little girl harm But she took her last breath, in her father’s arms.

Copyright © Candice Vega | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sonnet | |

Yes, There Really is Monsters

Growing up as a child I never wanted to sleep alone
In fear of the darkness and most of all the unknown
“Mommy is there monsters” I would commonly ask
Her reply was “only on Halloween, the ones we see in masks”

Still not satisfied with her answer and questioning her some more
Asking her the same old thing as I did the night before
Frustrated and exhausted she finally took me by the hand
Looking under my bed, in my closet and even inside my night-stand

“So see my daughter the monsters are only in your head”
“It’s time to get some sleep me dear, now do as I have said”
Respectfully obeying my mother; my little body trembling with fear
Wishing the hour was morning, praying for “him” not to appear
 
But as the darkness faded and uncomfortable silence came about
I could hear the monster stirring, getting ready to come out
Hoping the noises I heard were only my brothers messing around
Pulling the covers over my head, hoping and praying not to be found

The footsteps getting closer, the monster is almost to the foot of my bed
I now can hear his heavy breathing, oh God how I wished he was dead
Quietly he lifts my covers back and lays down in the bed beside me 
Touching, groping and mauling, trying to cover my eyes so I cannot see

He took away my childhood and with that my trust and self-esteem
A pleading child without a voice, invisible as it would seem
So yes my daughters there are monsters, everywhere we look
Saying as I remember my childhood and everything he took

Copyright © Stacy Stiles | Year Posted 2007

Details | Lyric | |

All on Me

All on Me

My childhood is sketchy too many
Holes 
Yet as those holes fill in
I do not like what I see
So many secrets 
So much pain
My innocence was lost
No wonder I never acted like a child
Still I feel like it was 

All on Me

Be strong, be brave 
Be silent 
Never tell a soul
No one will understand
This love we share
And so it went 

All on Me

Even now as I remember 
Each awful moment 
I wonder what I could have done
To avoid it all together
I wonder what would have happened 
If I had spoke up
However all the what ifs in the world
Will never change the fact that it is 

All on Me

Sometimes I feel like the 
Pain is going to last forever
I am so scared that the glimpse of happiness I once had 
Is all I will ever see
Yet I won’t give up and
I won’t give in
Because if I do then he will win
Then it will be

All on Me 

Instead of 

All on Him

By: Jeanna York
10-21-2013



Copyright © Jeanna York | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Rehab

So much I wanted to say. So much I wanted to shout.
It was like being trapped behind bars without a way
to get out.
My mind going wild with all these questions of why.
The only way to escape was to fall asleep or to cry.
What did I do so bad that made me have to pay?
My friends, my dreams, and my life was swepped away.
I know I can do it! I try and I try.
Nothing seems to get better. I sometimes wish
I would Die.
Starved for attention. I wanna talk to the world.
I just miss being loved. Miss the warmth of a girl.
Snickers and stairs is what my life has become.
I'm treated like I'm a kid, like I'm sick, or I'm dumb.
One day to the next. Life becomes work just to be alive.
I thank god for my blessings. I thank god I survived.
I finally see some improvement. More hope tickles
my brain.
It was worth all the time, all the tears, all the pain.
I awake with a smile and new hope to move on.
I did it! I did it! All those hard times are gone!

Copyright © Travis Flasnick | Year Posted 2009

Details | Acrostic | |

ABUSE

Agony
Blood
Unrealistic pain
Sheer terror
Emotional scars that never heal

Copyright © Sierra Arnold | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric | |

Normal To Me

This isn't just a poem This isn't just another emotion This is me, these are my thoughts The Imagery is my sight, And The Allegories are my Life I'm lonely, There is just me But there's so many people around but no one can hear my loudest screams Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me I'm torn, I'm Cut Part of my heart stabbed, and then taken from me The Search for my innocence, Is like a moa hunt Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me Laughing and Jokes all directed towards me Just to Hurt me Cover all of the Halls "Fag, Emo, Queer" Words I too often know Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me Curling her hair putting on her makeup "You're worthless and nothing to Me" Says the so-called all-loving-one As she screams: "Why am I not Pretty" Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me This is not just a poem not just some words my pen cries with each words But this is Just a Glimpse Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Face Of A Beggar Child

FACE OF A BEGGAR CHILD

I saw your tear-stained face O’ child
It swam before my eyes at night
I clearly saw your life’s struggle,
Your painful hunger pangs and fright.

In my dreams I could clearly see
Your shredded clothes and unkempt hair.
At such a tender age O’ child,
On your face it was all written there.

No one to care for you my child
No one to call your very own.
No mother nor father to call you son, 
No siblings to call you come hither bro’.

I wondered how you came to be
In such a distressed way of life
Each day you have to beg for alms
And face the world’s rage and strife.

Were you the victim of natural disaster,
Like quake or floods epidemic or plague.
Or was it due to human vices
Like war or bloody bath of  death.

Were you  lost in busy hustle of life,
Was it all due to human greed.
Were you the fruit of sin and tossed,
Amidst dirty dustbin where dogs came to feed.

Your tear-stained face swims before my eyes,
And asks me how it came to be.
That  God created all humans alike,
But gave them different destiny.

Oh God, this your humble servant,
Asks you just one small question.
If there are so many tear-stained faces present,
Why Mother Teressa was only one.

Copyright © Kulsum Mehmood | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme | |

How Can We Hurt The Ones We Love

How Can We Hurt The Ones We Love?

How can we hurt the very ones that we love?
How can we easily neglect our God above?

It seems like I often heard about many victims
Many times, it’s from a loved one who’s been with them!

The hate and the anger that boils from deep within.
Often “boils over” toward our family and friends.

It’s the love of Christ that we need to find!
His love can totally cleanse our life and mind!

The hearts of many families are bruised and broken.
By the harshness of many of the words spoken.

If we would allow Jesus to rule and reign.
We’d have little reason to murmur or complain.

If we would yield our lives to the master’s will…
The emptiness and brokenness, he shall fulfill!

If we could allow ourselves to sit at Jesus’ feet…
He can make any family totally complete!

If we could just listen to what Christ has to say.
His words of life would brighten our day!

As a family…  Won’t you give HIM a chance?
And allow his love to change your circumstance!

Won’t you allow his spirit to bind you together?
You can experience his peace today and forever!

He can change your family throughout!
This is his will and what God is all about!

By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Entwinement

Bleeding around me are empty faces
Sad, drooping spaces, crumpled places
Melancholy for the light of new places
Stuck in time, frozen in time
The pangs of lonesome fill their sagging hearts
Frowning forever, frowning forever
Let me stare blankly at the stained wall
Nothing at all…nothing at all

The mind is a scary place 
The mind is a distraction
From the reality ever binding
Curbing every reaction
The mind is overwhelming
The mind is oh so sad
When we turn to larvae and graves
It’s an never-ending...
Entwinement 

Found myself looking through the tiny hole in the wall
Watching you fall, watching you fall
Scared for the neck that would break us all
You shuddered my blood…shuddered my blood
I met the eyes of the souls of your feet
Twitching and swinging…unfeeling…unfeeling
Please allow me this sole ease:
Just be with me... lie with me

The mind is a scary place 
The mind is a distraction
From the reality ever binding
Curbing every reaction
The mind is overwhelming
The mind is oh so sad
When we turn to larvae and graves
It’s an everlasting...
Entwinement

-inspired by Mad World by Gary Jules-
-also inspired by the stop motion film: The Man in the Lower-Left hand Corner of the Photograph-

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Alive

And we are left here Like maggots—dirty, parentless…devastated Always feeding on the gruel…the cruel Fattening our lives in the moneyless bilk Shocking like a bee sting, yet soft as silk We are the forgotten I am watching the others grow rotten But I am cleansed and raw with glee Because…though blinded with slime…I SEE… I rise to the sound of the agonizing screams Of rapes, murders, of violent fists…weeping minds My definition of true finds… I smile when any possible hope arrives Fate laughs, knowing I constantly scream inside I am amused of it all…I can’t stop laughing As bitter tears began to fall I HATE ALL OF YOU… I WANT TO KILL YOU ALL… But I love that I can take anything From the nothing we have all been labeled The sick, the low…the mentally unstable Watch me roll up in a ball A naughty tease to death’s lull I love your silence… I love your intense fall And we are more alive than any of you We are crazed by your belligerence Aching to be emotionless SHARE YOUR INDIFFERENCE SHARE IT… Give us something to be left with So the others can die As Fate veers its head looking in the mirror Listen to her laughter—do you hear her? She watches and waits To find her maggots have grown wings… Screw your selfish indifference...we fall to fly We are more alive than any of you Though quickly we die

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad | |

My Long Lost Friend

He was my best friend
His name was Snoopy
He was a beagle
My favorite pet.

I got him on Christmas day
He was just a little pup
I loved him so much
Then God took him away.

He was out hunting 
He never came back
He was gone 
Just like that.

I wonder every day
Where is he
Alive or…
Dead?

I still miss him so
I cry at night
Missing him
Missing him.  


Copyright © Lindsey Pritchett | Year Posted 2005

Details | Lyric | |

The Sins Of Our Fathers


The sins of our fathers cast such long and unremorseful shadows
   Leaving in its quake such a painful sting as only God would know.
With tangled webs that reach to the bowels of hell.
   Manipulating lies destructive words which only a father could tell.
Knowing full well how the vicious lies will be cast downward in a spiraling effect.
   To rob our children of any pride and leave them as societies social rejects.
With no recourse but to follow in fathers misguided and devious ways.
   With unknowing and uncaring reasoning they go forth longing for better days.
So where is the justice for the generation that draws the short end of the stick.
   All to suffer for the mistakes of being sired by a father who was morally sick.
Once in a great while you might luck out and see one escape such a horrible fate.
   Most often as not the majority wind up like dad filled with anger and hate.
If the Lord ever places in your path one of these castaways of life.
    Maybe you can be the one to help free it from all its anguish and strife.
Break the vicious cycle of torment and pain.
   Teach them of our Savior, Jesus, and that not every dark cloud contains rain.
Tell them how Jesus died so they know about the cleansing power of His blood.
   And how God with one gentle breath could tame the waters of a mighty raging 
flood.
And how we can repent of our sins and even the sins of our fathers and still be 
saved.
   Seek Jesus and ask for forgiveness with a humble and sincere heart, then our 
sins we confess of, He so graciously waived. 
                  

Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2007

Details | Lyric | |

Buried Myself Alive

can you remember the time i let you in?
the time i showed you my heart?
the time i shared my soul with you?
the moment i poured out my blood when you needed it?
The second i saved your life?
The hour i saved you from your darkest secret?
The minute where you watched me bury myself alive?
Remember the time when you almost made me cry?
the time i made it a game to play your game?
the day i had my own time and took advantage of myself?
the hour it took to shut you out and let you go away for a long time?
well your going to have to ask nicer than that 

Copyright © Shayla Dendinger | Year Posted 2012