Dead, Beaten And Broken Poem by charlotte marie peachey

Dead, Beaten And Broken



There was once a little girl
Who was pretty and sweet
She had blonde curly hair
And cute little feet

She always wore pink
And smelt of baby soap
I liked to watch her play
With that purple skipping rope

But I remember when she grew
She changed so very much
She started wearing black
And she had her hair cut short

She wasn't all chatty and nice
Like I remember her to be
She walked with her head to the floor
Humming very sorrowfully

Then on one strange day
I saw her for the last time
For I heard she had died
On the news that night

She had cut her wrists open
And taken lots of pills
It was then I found out
She was a victim of abuse

So it just goes to show
How abuse can change them
From cute smiley little girls
To being dead, beaten and broken.

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