This Child
The fear inside her
is a large discoloured bruise
not visible
to the naked eye.
The loneliness inside her
is a blow to the head
that leaves no mark.
The terror inside her
are the deep marks
she tries to hide
by wearing long sleeves.
The isolation inside her
is the colour of nothing
so there is really
nothing to be seen.
This child
looks normal
& hides her desolation
behind brown eyes.
This child has either
forgotten how to cry
or doesn’t know how.
This child is the child
who died
because nobody
saw her
as she really was.
This child
has become the story
that made you cry
when it was
…too late.
This poem was written/submitted by Dónall Dempsey.
(No Ratings Yet)
Loading ...
Email This Poem To Your Friend