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A Story Crying to be Told Part 1

A newborn babe given to the ones who saved her from the fate of poverty and misery. To portray the loving family of white middle class or at least the struggling to be that. A girl of light and newness with almond eyes and darkened locks with fragile skin. A kin to Italian plite A kin to Irish blood None of that to bathe in just a different type to be cast in Perversion was among the living creed this family held fast the dying deed of : no talking, no whisper, no whimper or scream. Be quiet little one....be inside the room of your friendly playthings and create the fantasies you will keep faith in. Fantasies are nimble and sweet for a delicate mind to entertain inside Door closed Fights outside it...loud and booming!! Mother and Father no longer a family Plates are thrown and different things left strewn about. Her shouts sure drown the frightened whispers The lil girl told her playthings in the room fanciful with butterfly walls and trellises that lined the closet walls It will all be over soon Mother will succumb to her way of being numb She will be nice again The lil girl can come out and try to play with her brothers of 1/2 kin They call her brat The mother calls her muffin or muffet The father calls her squirt The land of fantasies run deep in this family Pretending is a way of life
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Written by
fly-on-my-wall-aka-lisa
Welsh
Published
Apr 22, 2012
Lines·Words
31·245
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