We need to help those that are dragging after themselves the ghost of times past. Don't try to heal, those are wounds that will never close, scars that no plastic surgeon can hide, words that will never be silenced or deleted.
All they want is understanding...

I don’t see an empty crib,
but the absence of a child,
and a cruel kind of silence
after that hopeless cry.

On the nursery walls they
painted with color of lies,
just a window’s dressing
so others could admire.

Love wasn’t come to be
one feature in his life,
he was there to please
the wishes of a grandma.

First, were that words
telling he was really bad,
useless creature, a leach,
sucking life of everyone.

Then came the belt hits,
though love giving slaps,
“they hurt me more, giving,
don’t dare go and cry!”

“I know you are too little
to speak or understand,
because mommy loves you
she hit you so hard.”

Time as gone, but memories,
are there with all the scars…
I don’t see an empty crib,
but the absence of a child.