At twenty months you were put into care,
Your mother found unconscious beside a chair.
Cured of her addiction she had you returned,
But her psychopathic boyfriend had you burned.

At first you were happy in your foster home,
You were independent and loved to roam.
From an alcoholic mother, dependent on drugs,
You were smothered in love and spoiled with hugs.

With a beautiful face and big round eyes,
You were the answer to their inner cries.
Having a daughter the family was complete,
And for their son, a sister was a treat.

You had to be, the centre of attention,
So walked and talked without comprehension.
You could manipulate your teachers with ease,
Using "learning difficulties" as your incurable disease.

You were wicked to their beloved son,
At mealtimes you stared at him, just for fun.
You would awaken him in the dead of night,
Or disturb his homework just for spite.

You had steely, controlled and staring eyes,
No sense of belonging to anyone who tries,
To give you love without compare,
Impossible to a mind beyond repair.

With guilt, pain and much dismay,
There was no alternative but to send you away,
To a special place without compassion,
Where forms and pills are all the fashion.

Often you are visited in a padded cell,
Looking so sad in a hypnotic spell.
The family who loved you beyond compare,
Are now the ones who need repair.

Written & (c) John McKay Withey 2008