The Truth Hurts

Curled in a ball she lay frozen in time as the pain

searched out every corner of her small body, and

her mind shut down as to contemplate all that had

happened was too much.  An inhuman man stared 

at the broken child as he zipped his flies after he 

had ripped the cries out of a child and left her

bloodied and torn.


Nearby a girl hides form the pursuer who took her

into his room and raped her, who now looks to her

for the pleasure of her screams and cries, which he 

muffles with his big hands as he destroys the very

core of her being with his lusts and loose lack of 

self-control, slaking his thirst on a body made for 

play and school.


While one man or woman can take and ruin one such 

child then no children are ever safe from the ugly,

unjust way that the law ignores       their raw calls

so that somewhere an adult is politely protected, 

politicians, police- while vulnerable children are violated,

and no one hears their shouts because they think that

they are above the law.


So, shout children, shout and tell the world over

and over again of the sickening wickedness that

has traumatised you, vandalised you and torn a

future from you. It is time that everyone hears 

from every child and stands with them against

the bullies and bawls to the world that this is

evil and must be blocked and locked for all time 

and in all places.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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