Poetry – Child Slavery

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.

Published by

marandarussell

Hi! I am an artist, author, and blogger who also happens to have Asperger’s Syndrome. I have won several awards and honors for my writings and artwork. I suffer from a few severe mental illness and chronic pain conditions (Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Fibromyalgia, CFS/ME, Ehlers Danlos, Degenerative Disc Disease, etc.), which greatly affects my life and makes me want to advocate for others going through similar things. Other interests of mine include reading, writing, drawing, watching cartoons and movies, collecting toys, hanging out with my family, and annoying my 3 cats.

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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