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
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