Home » Poems » Diane Perna » Part of Me: A Fallen Child 2

Part of Me: A Fallen Child 2

Part of my soul severed by their ruthless oppression, demoralization and exploitation
of a frightened and abandoned child.

Part of me drowning in detrimental sorrow as a 10 yr. old coerced by the evilness on 
the streets being drugged and fought off many assaults.

Part of me uncertain as to why I had absolutely no parental guidance, no curfew,
no meals, no schoolwork nothing necessary for a child only abuse.

Part of me remembering my childhood home as dirty, garbage thrown all over,
screaming, constant fighting forcing me out to the unforgiving streets.

Part of me painfully recalls never able to sleep in that house terrified my father 
would punch me for no reason and the other sibling kicking me until I fell.

Part of me still feels the humiliating and shameful names father called me were
worse than the beatings because I continue to hear them in my head today.

Part of me affirming due to my family’s harmful abuse, I suffered severe malnutrition
and rickets by eating only penny candy for all of my meals.

Part of me recalls shivering in the cold winters lacking proper clothing, with holes
in my shoes, chilled to the bone and looking for a bathroom outside.
 
Part of me remembers as a child I suffered from chronic respiratory illnesses due
to sleeping in the freezing cold attic without any heat.

Part of me trying to survive abuse at school wherein the kids ridiculed my torn 
and soiled uniform while the nuns hit my hands with a ruler until they bled.

Part of me feels deprived from the right to have the innocence of a childhood as 
the cruel savages in my life never allowed it.

Part of me wholly unprepared to exist and learn from the merciless and perilous streets
of New York teaching brutally harsh lessons thereby punishing me.

Part of me never moving past being a damaged broken child by the vicious heathens 
who inflicted unbearable hurt, defeating me again and again.

Part of me realizing that I almost died many times during my childhood and teens
but every time God grabbed hold of my hand pulled me off the ground.

Part of me remembering other forgotten children dealing with depraved characters
in our neighborhood while we were trying to escape unsafe homes. 

Part of me confirms as a young child I was forced out of the house spending
all of my time with other troubled kids numbing their sorrow with drugs.

Part of me affirms that only a few weeks after my father’s death I was forced to leave
the house immediately.  With my clothes in a garbage bag I left forever.

Part of me remembers a small rented room was all I could afford, an old, broken 
down place with only a box of cereal and tap water for all of my meals.

Part of me plagued with life shattering flashbacks of darkness revealing far too 
many horrific details of what I survived.

Part of me still experiencing a fast pounding heart with a lump in my throat to 
continuously remind me of such a sorrowful and lonely child I still am inside. 

Part of me split in character one society forced its disfigured creation, the 
other one barely breathing with weakness in heart, mind, and spirit.

Part of me in profound and silent regret for not being strong enough to hear 
the Lord speaking ever so gently to me.

Part of me surrendering to their prejudicial condemnation with no signs of life 
inside only the soreness of a broken body.  

Part of me scathed down to the bone by their malicious intent to harm the innocent
and weak.

Part of me as a child screaming inside with nowhere to go and no one to turn to, 
no one to show the slightest bit of compassion or humanity.

Part of me learning the wicked couldn’t bear that I kept fighting, as I struggled to
hide my trials by keeping the Lord inside my heart.

Part of me realizing punishing myself was a grave mistake as it was others
who caused me to falter.

Part of me deeply remorseful for having bled on the truly innocent, especially 
my sweet and gentle son.

Part of me incapable of seeing God’s love for me due to the unceasing pain
and suffering blinding me in every way and at every turn.

All of me believing that God is my true and devoted father and He will raise
me up to the heavens in the end to be by his side!

abuseanti bullyingchild abusefree verse

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Roy Wilde

August 2, 2024 at 6:05 PM

Devastatingly beautiful, thank you for sharing your soul!

Daniel Henry Rodgers

May 25, 2024 at 11:36 AM

Dear Diana, your poem is a hauntingly raw reflection on a wounded soul. Each fragment represents a scar etched into the narrator’s being—the absence of guidance, relentless abuse, and deprivation. The juxtaposition of innocence and brutality is heart-wrenching. The ache persists of the child who survived against all odds. Thank you for sharing this deeply personal piece. Blessings my friend, Daniel

Diane Perna

July 1, 2024 at 1:54 PM

I thank you with all my heart for your kind words!