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First Words Were A Cry

Born in July, precious like the silky sun,
His mother so proud for T was her first one,
She held T in her arms and whispered words in a sum,
She will protect him from all harm, for his life has begun

Little does she know, the so called love of her life,
Will soon cause her more pain than that of a sharp knife,
He can't take T's crying in the middle of the night,
So when he tends to T with anger she knows something is not right

He yells to her to hurry up and make T stop crying,
So she runs to soothe T as his father's patience is drying,
She dreads the 17th hour for she knows he's on his way,
And he's the only harm that is coming in T's way

A year in this world and T doesn't understand,
Why his father is always angry and T's silence he demands,
Sometimes he grabs T and shakes him so he stops,
But T is always in pain from the many times that he's been ‘dropped'

Two years into his life and things couldn't be worse,
His mother can't protect him for her strength is adverse,
He hears the door go click and his father is at the door,
He knows exactly what's coming; his body can't take much more

The third year of T's life and he has bruises to the soul,
He knows only pain and a father out of control,
He watches his mother beaten to the point she passes out,
Then he becomes the next target of which he has no doubt



Today T turns four and he has a permanent limp,
His father will say he fell and the stairs hurt his limbs,
Not many can take the pain that T endures,
But T knows not different for this hurt has no cure

T's fifth is familiar; his mother trying to fend him off,
And T cries and cries and asks him to stop,
His father turns to T and looks at him with a stab,
His father rages on as he walks towards him for the grab

As T turns six his mother can't take no more,
She can feel her rage building and its time to settle the score,
She loves her husband more than everything she has known,
But she must protect her son as she wants to see him grown

So she heads to where he sleeps armed with a kitchen knife,
And watches herself uncontrollably taking his life,
Then she holds T in her arms like the day he was born,
‘No more my son', she whispers as protecting him was her bourn

(Lookout for all the abuse to women and children around you)

By Jaye M

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