Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2017
She was born unaware of what life was or what life held,
You see her father taught her a lot when she was younger,
He used to hold her hand and walk her to the bakery.
Sometimes when they’d go he’d make her wait outside,
Or sometimes he’d walk into the bakery with her following right behind him in his footsteps.
Only the bakery wasn’t a place that made bread,
It was a place that used baking soda as they’re well known recipe.
This special bakery that the customers came in to every day,
Itching for this special recipe ripping themselves apart slowly and surely to get it.
Following her father in and out of bakery’s,
Seeing firsthand what makes these bakery’s so special.
The recipes from these bakery’s were all the same,
But little did she known the recipe was crack *******.
She got a little older when she started seeing her father on the weekends,
She was about five when her father stopped holding her hand to walk to these bakery’s.
But now her father was the baker and the house she stayed at was the bakery.
All the new people she met,
All coming and leaving with the same thing that they all craved.
Her cousin started staying over every once and awhile with her,
This started to get fun with all the excited people around.
Her father’s mother knew a lot about baking,
Because she was a loyal customer for years.
Customers started coming over more and more.
She wasn’t even six years old when the man approached her,
Moving slowly towards her untouched body.
She felt his fingers move in places nobody has touched before,
She tried to move him away and cover the revealing places his hands were at.
He wouldn’t stop no matter what she tried,
The one thing they never told you,
Was that the addicts daughter was molested that day,
At the unaware and now ashamed age of five.
Written by
Angelina  19/F
Please log in to view and add comments on poems