A Broken Home Draft

Stolen play and poetry A swollen face, abused and beat No food to eat. No table neat No place to be. No one to meet No place of love nor friend to see A child lost in poverty. The ills of a world seen verily No smiles now held merely A while to go till freedom felt Down to the level I bowed, I nealt. A promise dead. A mother dead A stern face. A sentence read. A child now lost, alone No mother. No home So what now whimpering to me I don't know I said, so quietly