In A Workhouse Poem by Lilly Rose

Lost in a storm,
Left behind for the wolves,
Missing a loyal home,
its warmth and comfort.
for whose fault is it if a child is left by their parents?

Sparrows are leaving,
Friends are scarce,
No one understands,
A monster in that house,
for whose fault is it if a child is neglected?

A room full of children,
A room full of fiends,
made by circumstances,
forced by nature,
for whose fault is it if a child choses death over life?

Leaving the past behind,
only to face the future,
I am no longer that innocent child
who entered this workhouse,
for who will care if I am to survive or not?

Only to be another mouth,
feeding in this house of death,
with no pity or hope,
nothing left to life except hopelessness,
for who am I to refuse death now that life has gone?

Now, I am not a child anymore,
the world is no longer a pretty sphere,
it is a gruesome and unfair place,
determined by wealth and status...
for whose fault is it that the world is as it is?