Her Story Poem by Patricia Kelley

She was only four,
When she came walking through my door.
She was the cutest sweetest little girl.
She came from a broken world.
She said when her daddy got mad,
would put his hand up her skirt.
Until it hurt,
He said.
I deserved to be hurt.
That I was to blame,
I felt my daddy’s hurtful shame.
I felt it until it burned.
I learned.
At an early age,
That my dad had a hidden rage,
I was in his private cage.
My heart fell to the floor.
I never know what a child is going to say when they walk through my door.