Her joy and purity are encased alone
Existing in spite of suffocating despair
Childhood fraught with things she was shown
Learned at the hands of common preachers
Grown up lessons too early known
In public upright, honored teachers
True natures from the world discrete
Of innocent souls, bloodsuckers and leachers
Time remembered when life was sweet
Soul blessed, innocence kept in her heart
Throwing off suffocating dirt and peat
Each sunrise a new start and restart
Until the fragments are rejoined in one part.
2 comments:
This is a strong poem, Nessa. The effects damaged adults have on children is harrowing. You have captured that and left me speechless.
Sandy: It wasn't what I planned to say. It just grew out of the poems structure. Thanks.
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