Poetry – Child Slavery

| marandarussell 
When I was a kid,
I would buy my parents cigarettes,
I would lie for them,
I would steal for them,
I would deliver their meals,
I would pick up the debris
after explosive arguments,
then I would nurse their wounds
(both emotional and physical).

I was a servant,
pasting on a fake smile
while hatred and rage
bubbled within
at my slavery.

28 thoughts on “Poetry – Child Slavery”

  3. No childhood is without trauma, but yours sound pretty extreme! I am sorry you did not get the nurture you needed. I hope you are happier as an adult! ❤ Your poem is well-written. I hope it helps people to become better parents. The early years are so important! Take care, Cheryl

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  4. That’s quite traumatic…..to do all that…..such things are difficult to forget as they sit deep….you’re the light, that once entered in your dark room from that wound…..sharing such a poem is a huge thing…..not all have the courage to do so…..thank you for sharing your ❤️

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