That social worker standing over there has written a report about me,
she doesn’t know me at all,
She doesn’t know that I suffered extream abuse when I was small,
She doesn’t know that I didn’t have a mum and dad ,
She doesn’t know that I was raised by my grandmother and grand dad,
She doesn’t know that my grandfather was violent,
she doesn’t know that my cries were silent,
now look at me social worker and not my squaller and my clutter ,
now tell me that I do matter,
my grandfather mentally and physically abuses me ,
He says that I am vile ,he calls me a bastard child,
That socialworker does’t know that the head teachers cane me,
Until my hands are blistered and sore ,no one but no one hears my cry , my spirit is broken ,
I am a broken child, I pray that the angles would carry me away ,
To a place where children are okay,
That social worker don’t know that I want to die but I am just ten,
That I was repeatly raped by two young men,
Don’t look at my squaller and my clutter ,
Now tell me social worker do I matter . Dorothy maude .I wrote this poem when
I wrote this poem when jasmine Grimsure head social worker from Havent social services told me that” I got what I deserved I “complained about the appaling way that jenny powel had treated me, lorrian riggs abused me also. Dorothy maude .