A Coward Named Barry Poem by chris schwartz

A sharp blade
Taken from the pocket
Of a crazy man
Held at the throat
Of a young, strong girl
He took her innocence
Cut it away,
Piece by piece,
Til nothing was left
Of her.
Too frightened to scream
She endured
The angry hand
Of a coward
Named Barry.
Twelve years plus
And two young kids
She tried to hide
The blunt of his bruises
From the young minds
That didn't deserve the pain
They didn't deserve the rain
From a coward,
Named Barry.

Newspapers read that he
Killed two hundred cats
She was trying to wear
Two hundred hats.
Wasn't much hope
For the little lives
Except a mother
Who Gave them,
The only chance
They ever had
To survive.
All because
Of a coward
Named Barry.

Years pass
And Barry runs free
Fishing on the bank
In an unsuspecting town.
The kids have grown up
But their wounds
Still reflect.
Alcohol and Pills
Both make their rounds
On the young and the innocent
And on the mother
Who endured
The only battle she lost
Was a with a coward
Named Barry.