The Child with the tainted heart

There’s a little girl somewhere,
She’s doesn't know where to be 
She’s crying, dying, 
Where no-one will see.

It’s raining, she’s soaking, 
She hides it so well,
She’s lonely and broken,
she’s going through hell.

Alone and discarded,
She curls herself up,
Afraid and unwanted,
In the damp golden crops.

She wants to go home;
But it doesn’t exist,
Her head lay in mud
Not knowing where her bed is

There are two destinations
A village apart,
She’s right in-between
And so scared of the dark.

It’s a field full of wheat,
On a cool summer's night;
Not the best place to stay -
But it’s the rats or his plight

There’s a flat in one place, 
Where her stepfather hurls 
He’s drunken and violent...
And likes little girls.

The other house is decrepit 
And filled up with rats,
It’s putrid and soiled,
Because they neglected the cats.

They’re all still alive,
But they won’t move away,
She gave them to someone,
But they’re here every day.

The back door is broken,
So everything gets inside,
Her belongings live here,
With other things, putrefied.

She splutters and coughs,
Inhales with a wheeze,
It’s cold, wet and dark
And it hurts her to breathe.

She’s thin and she’s sallow,
A shell of a being,
No food, no shelter;
Just emotional wounding.

Her mother was there,
She saw it all happen,
She said she was sorry -
But did not aid prevention.

He lurks in her nightmares;
She relives the scene - 
Of waking to find him
All over her, feeling

She vomits and cries,
Unable to wash, perhaps
He asks her to do things,
She refuses, he slaps.

If she tells any other,
Her sister will pay,
She’ll get put in a home
Where they both, cannot stay .

Her sister is fragile,
She has no other chance
In order to save her,
She suffers his hands.

She’s nearly fifteen,
Her half-sister is seven, 
And In her stepfather’s eyes,
She's an angel of heaven

Exploited and bruised,
And Mentally scarred,
She can’t run from this man,
Or her sister will starve.

Her mother is ill,
From the substance misuse,
Which renders her careless,
And passive to the abuse.

He supplies her the drugs
So she won’t make him leave,
He can easily play 
With her daughter to tease

Being a girl of fourteen
She knows it is wrong,
She does not comply,
So she suffers his scorn.

She’s never at school,
When she is, she is late,
The teachers don’t notice
That she’s so underweight.

They don’t see the bruises
She hides behind smiles,
They can’t see the pain 
In the big made-up eyes,

She screams to be noticed
In the wounds that she hides,
Self-inflicted and sore
On her wrists, neck and thighs,

On her arms, legs and stomach,
Her breasts and her back,
Her sides and her ankles,
Have all suffered attack.

It stops her from feeling
The turmoil she abides
The physical torture
Masks the agony inside.

She has no hideaway
No burrow to escape
From the man that she loathes,
By whose ruling she takes

Others her age,
Have new friends, she sees.
There are a few companions,
But none she can see.

She’s too much herself, 
Too apart from the crowd,
She’s too fat (though she starves),
Too weird (when she frowns).

She can’t talk to people,
They push her away,
Due to smell or appearance?
She can’t really tell.

She’s good academically,
Not lacking in brains,
Or artistic talent;
But attendance is grave.

Others poke fun
At the way that she speaks,
At her loud, angry music,
That helps her find peace.

They make her feel worse
About being in pain,
Over being so helpless...
She feels so ashamed.

She likes to read books
And live other lives,
Those words are the doors
Through which she can survive.

They tell her that she,
Though she can’t see it now,
Has a future to live for,
That she’ll find her way out.

Her classmates concur
She’s a nerd, she’s a geek.
She’s a waste of space and time,
Weirdo... Mosher...and Freak.

When people enquire
At her dirty attire,
At her physical hunger,
At the stink of the child,

When they see she has lice
In her hair and her clothes,
When she’s covered in flea bites
From the cats in her home.

When they see any bruises
Or cuts on her person,
If they notice her music
Or her crippled passion,

When they ask her what’s wrong
And embrace her (or try),
Or pretend to be caring
With ingenuine smiles,

When they fish for the comment
They can tease her about,
When they beg to have ammo
To shoot her heart out;

She puts on a face
That she’s happy and healthy,
That her home life is fine
And sufficiently wealthy,

That she’s perfectly cheerful -
Thanks very much!
That they shouldn’t be nosy -
There’s nothing that’s up!

They should mind their own business!
And be more discreet -
When they want to make jokes
About this girl they browbeat!

But she wants them to know;
All of them, and the world,
What is happening at ‘home’ 
To this broken little girl.

She wishes to scream,
And let out her frustration,
That her pain can’t be seen
By the rest of the nation!

That she’s not surviving,
But dying inside,
And in the whole of the world...
She has nowhere to hide.

She has no way to express
Her emotional state,
It’s impossible to help her
Maybe, put on some weight?

Because people would know, 
And they’d take her away.
She wouldn’t have her baby girl,
The sister she’d raised.

She wanted to hurt things!
Break them to pieces!
Smash people up,
And wreck their smug faces!

This intense insanity,
Tore her whole mind apart,
She cut herself more,
To stop feeling her heart -

Her heart that was cleaved,
And shredded to ribbons,
Her soul that was thrashed,
lashed, whipped and beaten.

Given the chance
She would scream out forever,
Her fear and her pain,
Her agony and terror.

For now in this world,
She has no reprieve
From the persecution she suffers,
Thanks to drugs, lust and greed.

She feels she can’t flee
From the hell in her life,
She’s bounded by demons
Who take joy in her plight.

For now she just cries,
In the heart of the field,
Enduring the knowledge
That this existence is real.

If she wants her next meal,
She must give him her body.
So instead she will starve,
While he waits for her, ready.

Her mother won’t help,
She’ll sit there and watch, 
And tell her she’s sorry 
Then light up a match.

She lies under the sky, 
That is a sinister black,
Being drenched by the rain
With the mud at her back.

She could stay here and die;
Giving to misery's plunder
To give up the fighting
And let the rain take her,

To wash her away
From this lurid veracity,
She was fourteen and dead
In the ways that were key.

What kind of existence,
does this poor girl endure?
Because people are ignorant,
Selfish and self-absorbed?

Why should she suffer 
The hands of a man so mad,
Who is three times her age
And says he’s her ‘dad’?

Why should she shy
From the people she’s with
From friendship and love
Where the ignorance lives

If you must really know, 
This story is true. 
A memory from a girl,
Whom quite well, I once knew.

This girl is now dead,
Forever gone, long ago
Replaced by someone who 
now even better, I know.

She smiles real smiles.
She laughs real laughter.
She’s healthy and has found,
Her happy ever after.

She’s happy and energetic,
A loving, vibrant soul;
A seventeen year old victim,
Whose story's now told.

Informing authorities, 
Who sorted out the mess, 
And gave her to her real dad
Who helped her redress

She’s well fed, she’s tidy,
With shoes that fit her feet,
A home that keeps her warm and dry,
And offers safety while she sleeps.

She’s never fully healed,
Her nightmares haunt her sleep,
But she has kept on living - 
and her body is hers to keep. 

Her life goal is her sister,
Who stayed living with the mum.
The man who hurt her so badly,
Is locked up and gone

She plans to get a house,
In which they both will stay, 
Her and her baby sister,
For always, till the day,

They decide to get married,
To partners of careful choice,
And have lots of children,
Who will each have their voice.

A voice to say they’re hungry,
A voice to say they’re scared,
A voice to say ‘mum, I need you’
And know that she’ll be there.