Monday, 17 February 2014 00:09

The Wounded Child

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She stood sadly In front of me
In her school uniform - age 7 it must be
She looked lost
She smiled not

It did not take me long to recognize her
She was the wounded child in me
Did she return to seek help?
It seems so to me

Each time I saw her
My heart started to bleed
Tears I just couldn't keep
I wished she could speak

Her continence evoked deep sorrows
She looked cold
She looked lost
She gave me sleepless and Geary nights
That I had to fight
In the silent of the night

I couldn't stand the sight of her anymore
She refused to go
Then I realized
That this wounded child must survive

With a heavy heart and a confused mind
I picked up the courage to seek a therapist for advice.....


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