Best Sadchild Poems


The Revenant

Awake the child that ached for years
The frightened man, ashamed of fear
I hold too tightly to this place
The reverence that lead to waste

Silent virtue comes undone
The burning pain, and dying sun
I can’t recall what I did want
And all that’s left is dead and gone

Innocence was spent on pain
My mind was twisted; left insane
The heart that tried to rise above
Was left alone because it never could

Depth and silence masquerade
The embodiment of all I say
My shadow crawling closer now
As I begin to question how

The misery that took my breath
Refracts itself until my death
This mirror world that will not break
Reflects to me all of my mistakes

Awake the ice that I’ve become
This destiny has overrun
The fallen centuries that I’ve felt
And all the heartache I have dealt

The vision of a child is gone
The fearful man has come upon
The image of a dying world
What’s left behind – no longer held
© Ian Petch  Create an image from this poem.

A Soldier

I sat in my truck in Hue City....
Little kids were everywhere....
Hungry.

One little girl I saw...
So pretty....
Maybe six or so
I didn't know....

Every morning
Our convoy would go
To Hue....
And she would be there
Looking for me...

A street child lost and hungry
I knew....
We never shared a word...
but I knew her smile..

I always had some food to share
Each day...It was my way...
I looked forward to seeing her
laugh and smiling every day...

Then came the next day...
In the morning...
Where was my darling
Little Vietnamese girl?

A boy...filthy dirty..
Maybe five years old,
Made the sign of death...
The NVA had killed Her.....
For wanting to be fed....by
The Americans....

I know that I am haunted
From things you cannot know
Or share...
A beautiful child died because
I gave her a piece of bread.....

PTSD has no bounds..........

The Night Terror

The phasing of my nightmares
Through to conscious time
Has stolen my last dreamscape
As this child screams inside

My creations always singing
Of the fear that still hides
Behind incentive’s reason
To pretend I didn’t die

This place without a meaning
Dressed in ashen love
Locking up its history
And mopping up my blood

The burning of my nightmares
Into this black hole
Reveals the bold reflection
Of the horrors in my soul

I’ve shaped my own existence
Using broken hearts
The red abyss now laid before me
Is everything I am so far

The truth is all around me
The night terror took my dreams
This child is now a monster
And alone I need to feed
© Ian Petch  Create an image from this poem.


Who Met Death

The woman was indeed pushing
her way through the crowd,
pulling, stepping, crushing,
none to proud,
on her face was an expression of relief,
then it turned to genuine compassion,
the child on the street,
blood at his feet,
was not her son,
then another one,
pushed through the crowd,
crying loud,
coughing, gasping, grasping for breath,
it was her child who met death.

Premium Member Dont Spite the Child To Hurt His Dad

~Don’t spite the child to hurt his dad
This practice is both harmful and sad
~And you wonder why he’s always mad

~He loves him as much as you 
Was by your side while in your womb he grew
~Raising a child takes more than one – it takes two

~You left them alone when you were in school
You trusted he knew what to do
~Now you’re not with him you change all the rules

~Why rip out his heart to soothe your pain
Why play these childish games
~In him rage and fury is what remains

~Take note; this battle you may have won
If the tables turn you better run
~This damage just can't be undone

~Please think about the long run
Put your anger aside and think of your son
~His father loves him more than anyone…

Lay

The Dark Angel

He came to me then and he comes to me now
who you may ask? He has many names, many faces
I called him my guardian angel
I loved him but he was not a man
He took my sorrow away and brought me joy
fake joy. 
He is more beautiful than 
Diamonds and gems, than gold and silver
Every man knows him some even love him
But most fear him, he was Gods angel in heaven
Above, but he chose hate over love, he is
Satin the Devil, Lucifer, 
He was my lover, my life and my joy
I gave birth to his unholy child I 
Killed my child my only child so
He could not have her in any way
He never loved me, he only used me
Now when he comes to me I turn him away
But I fear that one day he will finally have my child


Dear Mommy

Dear Mommy,
Why did you go away? Was I not as good as the white snow you blew was, my love for you 
not strong enough to help you pull thru? Stuck as the starving child wising to be loved. The 
drink was your friend to busy with to see a small little girl wishing to be that bottle so true. 
You left me mommy with these strangers so cold and bitter, each day born with a slap of the 
belt so few love letters. My sanity took from a girl so young, mommy you should of been 
there to shelter me from this storm. You came back mommy presents anew arms held out 
wide to receive something that this little child was denied. My love for you mommy is no 
more, with my sanity it walked out the door. No words you could say could ever fill the void 
of what i lost is what a mother, daughter bond that will never ever be reborn.

Once a Child Birth

Once a child birth.
 it is  Saturday,
 a  day of a new life
hardly  in suffering mind
a child once born,
born through abyss detriment
of motor contract expansion
expanding in contract pain voice
the voice in agony pain play
like a sheep playing in the ocean
of glory  laughter 
yet in a state of being a child
mother shout in groan of pain
deliverance
      aah-i can't , i can't
complaining twice, thrice and
congealed in  froze
frozing yonder outside of thy world,
in a sleeping wool of white color
the wool of which her baby lade 
crying endlessly from long way of 
 walked
a baby mother finally relief and
ended kicking the bucket full of water.
but yet cry,shout ,yelled hilaring,commotion
all join in depravity
a child mother no longer dwelth ,nor breath
in the world humans
rather  went to the world of  dead
In hail may her exist in paradise.

A Dusty Box of Memories.

A Dusty Box of Memories.

A dusty box of memories was full of untold hurts. 
And out of fear, She kept them there, remembering, she'd cry.
That woman made afraid of men would give it one more try.
She'd know a man and have a child with him, who came to flirt.

She slowly peeked inside the box.  Was trusting worth the cost?
To set aside those bleeding wounds that oozed from many scars.
Yet time alone was passing fast; dreams lived beneath life's mars.
And even if her feelings failed, a child was worth fear lost.

She thought and pondered while they talked and wondered what she'd do.
While at the dinner table full of food she cooked for him,
Small talk about philosophies amused the two of them.
Straight and stiff, not quite at ease, experience lacked, he knew.

He stood and took her by the hand seduction was his goal.
A bit confused, head in full spin, she bit the dust and sinned.
And he, all wet with pleasure's sweat, exhausted, wildly grinned.
She told him her conception plan; He said he'd take man's role.

And that is where the story starts about a hurt untold. 
Within two weeks, she had conceived, both joy and fear were hers.
It seems that he was happy, too.  They cuddled there in furs.
But in five months, the saga came that left her young heart cold.

As she was moving things about, he came with angry words.
You want to loose that baby?  Here! He hit her with his fist.
Her happy heart in new life's bloom had suddenly been risked.
Hospitalized, in agony, Boy's cries would not be heard. 

The first few years, she held the pain.  Then, illness struck her mind.
She never saw her baby dead.  His father looked at him…
Drugged, when she signed pain papers.  Adoption?  Did he steal him?   
Year after year, without a child, would sanity unwind?

One year, a hacker came her way and viewed hospital files.
A boy child born two weeks from “death” was named her chosen name.
Though many years had come and gone, the question still remained.
Did the man who helped make life obtain her boy for his wife?

Written for Dusty Box of Memories Contest  
Sponsored by: Constance La France

Funeral

You lay there cold, not moving
I want you to blink. Why won't
you blink? Why won't you breathe?

I dont understand. Should I
have understood? Should I have 
known then just to grieve?

Should I suddenly of realised
all matters of life an death?
What would be the point?

I stand there, just a child and
gaze at your ever staring 
eyes as the priest annoints

You and says something I
do not hear. Is this all my fault?
I am filled with regret.

The confusion of a child is
not easily subdued. The
past in stone is set.

We walk from the church,
my Father's hand on my shoulder
as you are placed in the ground.

I close my eyes. My mind begins
wander. Just what in death
is there to be found?

Steven

Big blue eyes, a warm soft smile.
 A loving heart is what he shows.
Underneath his coy facade,
 is a sad child I really know.

He tries to act as if things don't matter,
 But a lonely boy is what I see.
He has more worldly knowledge, 
 than a child of just sixteen.

Ripped from the safety of home, 
 from such an early age.
Has given him emotions he never knew.
 Loneliness, heartbreak, sadness and rage.

Though this has taken it's toll on him,
 He hasn't let it get him completely down.
He has an outlet, he's an artist at heart.
 This helps those feelings drown.

Through his drawings and his words, 
 comes a man all on his own.
Who could have thought,
 through words a boy now stands alone.

He has learned more through this, 
 than life has taught him before.
I love my nephew Steven, 
 all the way to the core!

Lost Forever

Lost Forever

A child with no where to go
Alone in a world 
Full of people
Such a tiny voice
No one could hear
A Child

Lost Forever

Pretending to be okay
Not wanting any one to see the pain
Afraid no one would believe
A child 

Lost Forever

Not knowing whom to turn to
Afraid of their own shadow
Wanting to run away forever
Hide from the pain
That will not go away
It would be so nice 
If it would get 

Lost Forever

Crying on the inside
Smiling on the outside
No one would know
That this child 
Did not feel like a child
Innocence taken away
A childhood

Lost Forever

By: Jean Shular

Co-Dependent

The little child gazed upon the clear blue sea
Dreaming, praying, wishing for a change
For he knew that things were meant to be
For some reason, his life was prearranged

Held captive to that other, the being inside
He knew not of smiles, but sensed them about
He wished to escape and no longer there hide
To let the child that stays to one day come out

Child Unborn

Emotions are torn
For a child unborn
Never to be rocked and held
Emotions are torn
For a child unborn
Never to once be felt
No stories for us to tell 
high hopes
big dreams
all that’s just a memory
as it now seems
What would have been
Pride and joy 
Has left a big void
An empty space
To have never seen that baby face
Count fingers and toes
To go buy baby clothes
Emotions are torn
 For a child unborn
Our anticipation 
has become devastation
our elation
has quickly faded
all that’s left is imagination
of this child unborn, alive
in our minds

The Price

This is the price you pay 
For child abuse
Can you feel me
I cant feel you

All alone 
Lying in bed
I’m asleep
Soon I’ll be dead

I’m in your room 
As I wake from light
Your upon me
Something ain’t right

I open my eyes 
And see your face 
I’m scared to death
My heart starts to race

I look in your eyes
There is no shame
Down below 
I can feel the pain

I try to push you 
I’m not ready
Its no use 
Your to heavy

You close your hand
Over my mouth 
As I try to yell 
And scream for help

You grab my shoulder
And turn me around
Push my face
To the ground

I can’t breathe
I’m gasping for air
I’m hysterical now
But you don’t care

This is it 
This is all 
It’s what you get
You broke the law

You pay the time 
But I paid the price
In your cell
I hope their anything but nice

This is the price you pay 
For child abuse
Can you feel me
I cant feel you.
© Stacy Day  Create an image from this poem.

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