A broken kid
A Broken Kid
By Blossom Monyei
His dad doesn’t talk much,
He just grabs a bottle from the fridge, then walks away.
His mom doesn’t cry,
She only says she’ll take her child and go away.
One day… she did. ??
The boy asked,
“Am I really their child?”
He was young, but not blind,
They argued in front of him,
Not caring he was listening.
Now they’ve done worse—
They’ve split apart.
His mom took his hand,
And left.
—Blossom Monyei, the bleeding pen
Copyright © Blossom Monyei | Year Posted 2025
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