The purpose of a Children’s Home, is rescue from abuse.
It’s not an opportunity to let your weapons loose,
and cover it all over, with a well thought up excuse.
Because I am right handed, and my cuts are on the left,
the others were an accident, when I was doing theft.
Told by older boys to steal, because they had no shame,
I was crucified at the conclusion of their game.
Ignore the bigger issues now, in favour of the small,
there’s no investigation to interrupt you all.
I came here with no scars, so how did I leave with more?
Now I have amnesia of what went on before.
I get a snatch of images, and still remember names,
locked in with delinquents who were playing vicious games.
One took out his penis and he waved it in my face,
telling me to touch it, I was six, what a disgrace.
Under a reign of terror I shared with another girl,
everything I want to know, flies past me in a whirl.
When those memories return I know they’ll hit me hard,
now it’s safe to let them out, no longer are they barred.
One thing I remember, and I carry to this day,
is why I had to go in there and suffer in this way?
The staff there made us call them our ‘uncles’ and ‘aunts’
but they did not take care of us, when they got the chance.
