Home Babies

Age four.
On the floor.
Dad long gone.
Mum no more.
On the floor.
Example to all.
Old and small.
This is how it looks
This is the result
Age four, put on the floor.
Cloaks swish by, the smell of lack.
Dressed in black, shoes that clack, eyes that bore.
On the floor.
Don’t get up, stay right there.
Don’t dare.
Glares and snares, looks that hate
Unable to relate.
Expecting nothing more
“He smells” becomes the bait.
Punishment for shame
Playtime denied, who cried?
Quiet while the others receive what’s truly theirs.
And could have been for you
But no one said their prayers
For you. 
On the floor
Aged four.
Now gone.
Eight hundred more.

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