My heart is small,
my eyes are small.
I am filled with trauma
my world dark and cruel.
My eyes have seen things that no child should ever see,
things that Poppa would say to me.
He breaks up the furniture and kicks in the door,
my heart is raw Poppa calls me vile.
But I thought that he meant wild.
I love wild animals and wild flowers,
I had no idea that vile would make me cry for hours.
My confidence is low,
Mum and I have nowhere to go.
We live with a violent man,
everything is out of hand.
Mama cries as she kisses my forehead,
She whispers one day we will be free.
Of poppas violence and all this misery.
Mum dies,
a good new home,
no more suffering,
no more violence,
I just love the wonderful sound of silence.
It lives in my heart and my eyes.
I wrote this when I was 15 years old