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.

Poetry – When I Was Hit By a Truck

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Not many 10-year-olds
could be hit
by a speeding
delivery truck
while crossing the street
and live
to tell the tale…
but I always was
a weird statistic.

The truck ran
me over
with the ease
of a speed bump.
I even had the
tire tracks
and imbedded gravel
across my stomach
to prove it.

When I woke up
in the ER
I screamed out the names
of all the people
I was going to sue…
until my mother
bought my silence by
bribing me
with the promise
of a brand new
Barbie doll.

(Poetry by Maranda Russell, marandarussell.com)