In Their Clutches (or A Parent's Remorse)
Young, soft, pliable
The hook sinks deep
Eager to please
Weighted with guilt
Bright young smiles
Slapped into submission
Wide innocent eyes
Hollowed out from fear
Supple little hands
Gripped in desperate appeal
Eager for life
Shamed into flight
Run for a while
The hook is still there
Freedom in sight………..
The line pulls tight
Snagged, trapped, ensnared
The hook sunk deep.
(I know. I helped set it)
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We Are The Child Abusers
We took our children there
We slapped and spanked
At the back of the hall
We fitted them to the yoke
(The one we could hardly bare)
We pressured and forced
And withheld our love
Until square little pegs
Fitted into rounded places
And we looked good.
We lost their love
We lost their trust
We lost our children
As surely as if we had been
The ones abusing them.
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Lost Childhood Complete
The instrument that smoothed away your softness
Was the rasp of my anger and withheld love
The blades that etched the pain in your heart
Were the knife-like words I did not keep back.
The ruler that measured your every deed
Left you feeling your best was never enough.
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