SHAME (chapter 2)
Kept in a cage for the first eight years
like a circus freak, but one with real tears,
the cage that I speak of was my family home
it was almost like I had a heart of chrome.
The father I had, was no father in deed
he left me to die, to serve his own greed,
he hit me and raped me like I was a toy
and never gave a chance at life to his little boy.
The boy was so tiny, so gentle and soft
and always prayed, for his father to hold him aloft,
instead I got kicked, and punched in the head
when all I wanted was to be read to in bed.
People told me that this was not right
so I told the Authorities about my young plight,
and what did they do, they just pushed it aside
as though my father had nothing to hide.
So I carried on, as best that I could
and spent the next years being misunderstood,
I went into a shell, but no-one could tell
that this little boy was living in hell.
I tried to make smiles for rich and for poor
even though my young heart was so sore,
in hospital I stayed, for many long days
with all bones broken and my mind such a haze.
A teacher once thought that I’d wet my pants
much to the delight of other kids chants,
so I got up and left, my tears were a flood
left on my school chair was a pool of dark blood.
My pants were all red and so was my face
all I wanted to do was get out of that place,
I had to “go home”, because the teacher was weak
so I have to assume that she did not speak.
I tried to tell others about this, even my mum
it was like every adult was struck deaf and dumb,
I figured I’d die, with so many breaks in my jaw
I had no idea it was against the law.
The police were great friends with my father you see
and on the first plane to leave Melbourne was he,
with the Prime Minister and Co. all flying so high
and left me in the Children’s hospital, to simply just die.
I think it was twenty-seven, breaks in my face
and with some surgery, my looks could replace,
but out of the ward and “home” I did go
to wait in peace for the next old man show.
Author Notes
This is Chapter 2 of "A Bad Start" my “Childhood Series.” of my autobiography. I got roughed up a bit for my first few years. Thanks to Google Images for the picture of a broken doll.
Copyright (c)2015 Rick Thwaites