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,
I deserved to be hurt.
That I was to blame,
I felt my daddy’s hurtful shame.
I felt it until it burned.
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.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
By, Patricia Kriegel-Kelley
Comments about this poem (Her Story by Patricia Kelley )
- Loving you, Harold R Hunt Sr
- over zelouse, lee fones
- weird smells, lee fones
- Truth, Jonathan H. Scott
- Hindi haiku - diwali, S.D. TIWARI
- You, With Your Wild Strawberries, Will N.., mary douglas
- A jumping bean, Harold R Hunt Sr
- A bean, Harold R Hunt Sr
- There are heroes, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Love counts the hours, Mark Heathcote
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