The world is now a place,
Where we could no longer call home.
Perhaps it was destruction,
Or the dignity on the floor.
She was raped at four,
He held her little wrists so tight.
She cried and yelled and begged,
But he was no match for a fight.
He attempted at seven
Took his father's pills that night.
His mother held her fragile son,
The longest, silent, quiet ride.
Her parents were abusive,
Bruises up until her thighs.
She became immune to pain,
Had heard their "loving words" as lies.
A classroom filled with students,
The gunshot took their lives.
They fell one by one to the ground,
While endless sorrow thrives.
Perhaps it was destruction,
It was indeed right on the floor.
The respect and basic manners,
They're locked behind the door.
-
Author:
~c.y (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 7th, 2026 05:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship
Offline)
Comments4
Well written!
Thank you!
A candid and most descriptive write
I appreciate it
most welcome
The brutal power and force of the words make this a hard read but although hard to hear it is the difficult that makes the change and makes stronger not just the individual but society and we need change. A fave
Thoughtful comment! Thank you
You are most welcome
I am short on words. A powerful poem.
I greatly appreciate it
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