Child Abuse Story From Kennesaw

by Kennesaw T
(Georgia, USA)

Informally Educated
Kennesaw
I'm the boy, the boy of no joy.
I was in your class, a dirty hand, vacant eyes, the soul of a man.
I'm the guy, the guy who'll still cry.
In the darkness the doubt and guilt sits still, waiting on me to return to bid its will.
I'm the man who walks hand in hand with the boy, the boy of no joy.
I stole your tools, your children's toy.
I'm the boy, who stole my joy?
I'm the kid who you looked at his ribs, look away quick at least he lives.
You and others like you time and again, broken ribs and noses always mend.
I'm the climber, who climbs toward the sky.
If I fall will I die?
I'm the kid you sent to the office time and again.
I had no hope, no future, no friend.
Look away, look away, look away all.
A bad childhood habit, how often I'd fall.
I'm the boy, the boy of no joy.
It was my own little war, a soldier I'd never be.
A prisoner of war was God's plan for me.
The fist goes up and the fist comes down.
If no one outside hears it, does it really make a sound?
I'm the man who really understands.
The relative size of the head of a child and a hand.
I hope that there is no one anywhere that gets this,
It's my hope, my dream my plea, but I know it's wishful thinking,
there are others just like me.
I'm the man with the little boy inside.
The boy still walks the earth, the man's only along for the ride.
Just in case you meet me, I'm the boy, the boy with no joy.
I'm the guy who will cry, the man who has yet to die.
In the end I win, you die, I cry, where do the answers lie?

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kennesaw Poem 2

by Kennesaw Taylor
(Georgia, USA)

Die Sweet Child
Kennesaw

I've watched men die, held their hand, heard their final breath.
Men who had proved themselves, men who had passed their test.
I've watched men die who needed it, men who had no heart.
I see them in my dreams sometimes, but am glad I did my part.
The words I speak now are so damn true, most will not understand.
Sometimes you wish to die to avoid again, that awful hand.
I hope you can not understand what it means to wish to die.
I understand oh too well and for those kids I cry.
I'm sad each time I hear the news that a child has lost it's fight.
But I know in my heart of hearts that they will sleep in peace for the first time that night.
So die sweet child one after one until the world does see.
That they must put a stop to what happened to you and me.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kennesaw Poem 3

by Kennesaw T
(Georgia, USA)

And so we Fight on 
And so we fight on,
remembering days long gone.
Staring through the fog and rain,
It's hard not to think of the pain.
Every single day,
Is still a fight in some way.
Every single night,
In sleep we search for the light.
We live, we learn, we love,
but deep down we never really rise above.
We're troubled or trouble and misunderstood,
most of us bad, but some of us are good.
We watch the world around us as normal passes by,
we know not normal, but still we must try.
We wonder why,
why we still must cry.
When young you try to fight all the evil that others do,
Then you find out, they don't arrest them, they arrest you.
You go on living watching mothers and children die,
You watch the news each day and in front of everyone you cry.
Your children do not understand,
to them you'd never raise your voice or hand.
You see them in your church, your school, on the street,
you see the abuse in the eyes of many children you meet.
You want to believe it's over, that it's time has past,
but the numbers prove it lives on and that it will last.
So you figure out a way to fight,
a way that society thinks is right.
And you fight on,
you fight on with a poem, a book, a song.
You speak with hail and brimstone as often as you can,
you scream out to the world, abuse me if you can, I am a man.
Others fight the fight as well,
people who never lived the hell.
You hug them, thank them, bless their hearts,
because they are where the end really starts.
And so we fight on,
with an army not alone.
Will we ever stop it, no way.
but we make a difference every day.
We're out there still shivering, scared, trying to survive,
we're counting on all of you to save us and keep us alive.

---

Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.