This is a poem she wrote today in her Year 8 English class - the teacher liked it so she brought it home for me to read and it made me weep.
I made her promise to tell me if she ever felt as bad as the girl in her poem. OMG - doesn't bear thinking about! Especially after the events of this last week in our neighbourhood!
I open her door and sigh.
Lying there, she's sleeping.
I look closer and feel so bad.
I've seen that she's been weeping.
I go up to her and stroke her leg.
Her face is cold and pale.
I check her arms and stomach.
She's like a ragdoll - limp and frail.
I find a razor in her drawer
but no blood, just plain.
I take it and lock it up.
Not again, not again.
Bruises are forming on her knees,
Her skirt is torn and ripped.
Her shoes are scuffed, her hair a mess.
I don't think that she tripped.
Why didn't she tell me?
Why did she hold back?
I don't know who did this to her,
But their heart is painted black.
I find a bottle of pills in her sheets,
Clumps of hair missing from her head.
She's not breathing, I cry
Oh my God, she's dead.
I tuck her in and kiss her head.
Was this monster wild?
I will find out who did this to you,
But for now, good night, my beautiful child.
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