Chapter 5. The Children's Home. Poem by Katherine Shaw

Chapter 5. The Children's Home.

Rating: 4.5


The place of safety was dirty and cold
The building smelt musty, damp and old
Place of safety in which I was to roam
Was in fact a children's home
They clothed and fed me as little as they could
They didn't look after me as they should
We weren't their kids, why should they care?
It wasn't their kids that were shoved in there! ”
I always had a dirty face
Left to fend for myself in that horrible place
The bedrooms were damp, filthy and bare
They contained a few beds, a table, a chair
There were cobwebs adorning the corners of the ceiling
The wallpaper mouldy, curling and peeling
Decor dated from The Sixties describe it well
This was the hovel in which we were to dwell

The beds were hardly ever made
The sheets were worn, tatty and frayed
The windows were cracked and not at all safe
What a place to keep a young waif!
What would happen if I had fell?
Would they have been worried? Would they hell!
At night I often sobbed and cried
I even contemplated suicide
The staff never seemed to care
Didn't even know that we were there
Imprisoned in a hellish nightmare
It wasn't our fault, it wasn't fair
I shared a room with five other kids
The windows were secured with old metal grids
The staff said it was to keep thieves at bay
But I think it was to stop us from running away
I would stand silently in the dinner queue
Holding my tray that was coloured blue
Served like cattle at a trough
Slop dumped on our tray, quickly sent off
Plastic knife, spoon and fork
Eating in silence, I dare not talk
Staff eyes watching us eat every bit
Making sure we ate all of it
We ate gruel, they ate steak
We ate shortbread, they ate cake

I would often play alone in my room
My only doll I used to groom
I gave her a name, I called her Nancy
She was a cheap doll, nothing fancy
She was made from a cheap, flimsy plastic
Her clothes were worn and had no elastic
Her clothes were made from an off white lace
Moth-hole ridden all over the place
I used to sit there brushing her hair
She was the only one that seemed to care
Cared that I was hurting inside
Cared if I lived or died
Cared if I had a dirty face
Cared that I was stuck in that place
She was my one and only friend
She stayed with me until the end
This is how I was treated for the next few years
Both by the staff and also their peers

Thursday, October 1, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: sad
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Heaven's Authority 31 January 2016

Wow! I imagine this child was sent to a foster family of sorts and left to rot, I could say the same for some family's here in the us. It is a shame when they treat others as a game.

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