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Suffer Little Children

Blond curls and big blue eyes,
He soon realised the futility of his cries
To a mother with no love in her heart,
Pain and suffering she would impart.

Before the age of two hisΒ back was broken,
Long before his first words were spoken.
His bruised body with festering sores,
His blood splattered on the dirty floors.

Betrayed by a system more interested in charts,
Than mending children's broken hearts.
His short life just another statistic,
Where child cruelty is going ballistic.

Repeatedly his situation was reported to those,
Responsible for acting on children's woes.
But time and again no remedy was taken,
His dangerous plight had been forsaken.

His spirit broken, his body battered
His senses numbed, his teeth were shattered.
Another child in a growing list,
Where love is shown through an adult's fist.

Written & (C) John McKay Withey 2008

, , , , , , #life, #love, , ,

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Comments (3)
    • Hi Haley, Sorry this poem upset you but I detest these bullies. You should report your friend's father anonymously and gently advise your friend to also report him. I can never understand these sadists who beat up their own kids. Take care. John.
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      • So very sad... I always wonder why. How could anyone be so sick-
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        • Hi che57vy, This poem is based on an actual case that ran in the UK newspapers. Society is becoming more sick by the week as this is becoming a regular occurrence. John.
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