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The Runaway

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The girl was only thirteen but she decided to runaway from home, Her parents did not hit her but their words were like whips; They called her stupid, and told her she would amount to nothing, She did not understand why they seemed to hate her. So she put everything that would fit into her backpack and left, With no plan in place, she just started walking and walking; She knew that staying in her small town was out of the question, Leaving would be the only option, so she became a fugitive. A bit of money bought lunch and then she headed for the highway, Put out her finger to hitchhike and the first car stopped; Where are you going, he asked, Toronto, she replied, uncertain, I can take you part way, she got in and he was polite. He let her out in Kingston, but first bought her some food, At the restaurant she met up with a teen boy hitchhiking too; So they made a team and set off together, she thought it fun, They got to Toronto at night and ended up sleeping outside. When she woke up, he had gone and she was all alone, She walked the streets, running when she saw a police man; In the evening a man approached her and asked, if she was lost, And if she was hungry, she was, and he seemed nice. He took her to a mission and they gave her soup and a bed, There she met some kids who were hitching to Florida; Why not, she was a fugitive here, so the next day they left, It did not take them long and they slept on the beach. In the morning she was all alone, and now in another country, She was starting to get afraid, then a man said to her, hello; Lost, he said, he seemed nice, she nodded taking his hand, The Florida police found her body in a canal that day. There was no identification and no missing child reports, Her parents did search for years and years and years; She just disappeared, a little girl fugitive on the run, She is buried in a nameless grave in Florida. And they never found her. __________________________ March 15, 2016 Poetry/Free Verse/The Runaway Copyright Protected, ID 16-768-391-0 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Date: 3/23/2016 3:23:00 PM
The end was sad....very well written.
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Constance La France
Date: 3/23/2016 4:50:00 PM
Meenakshi, thanks for visiting my poem and for the compliment, sadly this happens to often ~
Date: 3/16/2016 11:05:00 PM
Wow, I didn't see that abrupt end coming, wow. So sad, so definitively abrupt. Not everyone's nice, some are dangerous. love it. thank you BW
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Constance La France
Date: 3/17/2016 2:35:00 AM
Lewis, thanks for visiting with the wow and the great comment, sadly there are some very innocent girls out there who are too trusting and the end result can be horrible to fathom...
Date: 3/16/2016 1:56:00 PM
Wonderful write, BW. Sad occurrences happen often.
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Constance La France
Date: 3/16/2016 2:35:00 PM
James thanks for visiting with the wonderful
Date: 3/16/2016 2:36:00 AM
Excellent. Very deep touching write. Enjoyed reading it. Thanks for sharing it.
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Constance La France
Date: 3/16/2016 8:27:00 AM
Ravi, thanks for visiting my poem and the excellent !
Date: 3/16/2016 2:08:00 AM
This is very disturbing, BW (but it's a sad fact of life) .... lot of creepos on the loose. I actually thought she would get an epiphany, in some way, and return back home ... so the sudden death threw me for a loop. Well penned, nonetheless.
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Constance La France
Date: 3/16/2016 8:38:00 AM
Timothy, my poem is a fiction but this is a reality for many girls, I think that in my poem, when she was in Florida all alone on that beach and she was afraid, she realized her mistake and wanted to go home, her problem was she was innocent and trusting, to take the hand of anyone who seemed nice... she knew nothing of evil, thanks so much for visiting my poem and the compliment !
Date: 3/16/2016 12:22:00 AM
Change to "if she saw a police man" sometimes auto correct will mess you up. You really told this story well Constance. Hugs Rick.
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Constance La France
Date: 3/16/2016 8:43:00 AM
Rick, thanks for visiting my poem and the compliment and hugs, oh that auto correct is a nightmare, it is like little elves that change me words, thanks for spotting that little oops that I have corrected now, you are a friend indeed, hugs back !
Date: 3/15/2016 9:11:00 PM
Constance such a realistic write. A wonderful entry. Thanks for sharing.
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Constance La France
Date: 3/15/2016 9:39:00 PM
Michael, thanks for visiting with the wonderful !
Date: 3/15/2016 11:17:00 AM
OMG what a touching write!!!Simply superb and very well penned
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Constance La France
Date: 3/15/2016 2:31:00 PM
Anand, thanks for visiting with the compliments, so grateful !
Date: 3/15/2016 10:51:00 AM
often too true!.....the statistics of runaway homeless teens esp in the USA is too high, and its the responsibility of all of us to care and make it stop...too often if it doesn't hit home we turn our heads and decide its not our problem...Let us be better people and be our brother's keepers today!!
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Constance La France
Date: 3/15/2016 2:33:00 PM
Carlene, thanks for visiting my poem today, and for that great comment, yes, all people have to take responsibility for the kids on the street ~

Book: Shattered Sighs