A child to sell

WildMoonChild

Daddy is mad. I watch it slow motion as mummy’s body hits the ground, and it starts ringing in my ears that familiar siren sound. I’m screaming as loud as I can, trying to break through the noise, whilst some pitiful lady is trying to distract me with my toys.                                                                   " Take the children!" I hear the officer say loud and clear, so I cover my up my eyes and try to disappear. Tensing all my body, wishing with all my might that maybe just maybe this time my future might be bright.

I'm standing with my suitcase, fiddling with my dress, they've tried to make me look smart, but my mind is still a mess. My hair hangs down loosely, tapping at my waist as my anxiety begins to builds and I slowly start to pace. My workers on her laptop, tapping her nails impatiently, whilst my other workers sat on the floor reminding me to act graciously.

I am not an advert, take me as I come, I am but a child and I should be having fun.

They’re here. You can see their disappointment slowly paint their face, and I can feel my heart beat slightly start to race. You see it's not my fault, this is all I've ever known, when you're in the social system there's not much room to grow. Cloth me in these dresses, and tie bows into my hair, try and make me look pretty, see if I give a care.

Like a fire has started deep down in my core, my inner temper starts to roar and I can't seem to contain this sadness and this anger anymore. Tears running marathons, racing down my cheeks and I can't even stop myself. I have no time to think.  I'm ripping at my dress, pink fabric falling at my feet. It's not that I want to scare them, I just can't take this heat. Their silent judgments worsen by the minute; everyone has their limits.

As they turn their backs and make their way out of the room, I start to let it sink in, that eternal feeling of gloom. I throw myself to the wall, restraining myself back, and listen to my heavy breathing as I have a panic attack. I did try my best, I know you may not believe, but at the end of the day at least they didn't choose me through deceit.

I want a mummy and daddy, I want a family too, but it isn't quite that easy, if only you knew.

  • Author: G F L (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 8th, 2016 03:43
  • Comment from author about the poem: I have an adopted friend, whos not had the easiest of upbringings. The kind of upbringings people take for granted and every time I think of her story and how strong she is now, it inspires me and makes me feel lucky to have such a family and positive childhood experience.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 46
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Comments6

  • BRIAN & ANGELA

    Thank you MOON CHILD for another perfectly penned poem. I am so pleased that experience was not yours you are much too precious. To dress such a painful scenario in such an elegant poem makes you an excellent poet. It softens the blow but heightens the pathos. I too know Children in similar circumstances and I have worked with the local YMCA in Child rescue and rehabilitation. It is never ever easy. Thanks for caring HUGS ~ BRIAN

  • nicolerobinson

    This is really powerful. Great poem, x

  • Augustus

    Yes, the foster care system is a mess. Sometimes you wonder who are they supposed to be serving. Beautiful poetic description of a tragic situation. I love the way you got into the mind of the child to express her feelings.

  • Tony36

    Powerful write

  • willyweed

    !

  • Andrew Charles Forrest

    It would normally take a book to capture what you have here... bravo MC



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