Another Child Abused Poem by Alice Cole

Her name was Annie
She was small
She wasn’t lucky, no, not at all
Barely fed and starving
Locked in her room
She was dying
Facing eternal doom
From her mother’s hand no less
She laid there
A perfect image of distress
Her blonde curly hair
Dyed red with blood
Bruised and broken she lay
Her tears a flood
“Why me” she would say
As the pain came once more
Each strike, each blow
Tearing down a soul that wasn’t there anymore
“I’m sorry” she’d sob
Each time she was hit
“Oh help me God”
But she is too late for it
Her mom’s already there
Her hands in fists
She pulls her up by her hair
Annie can barely breathe
“I hate you” shouts she
As she throws punches to her face
And so lays there Annie
In this horrible place
Slowly fading away, dying
Her sobs mixing into the darkness, crying
Her mom came back later to hit her some more
To find Annie laying motionless, for she was no more