The Ballad of Ben

Where morality and need compete,
Drug remains lie on the street,
Children play in burnt out cars,
After dark the shops have bars,
It's to this world that Ben comes home,
There's no one in.  He's all alone.

Ben wonders what he'll get to eat,
Turns TV on and falls asleep,
Awakens to the front door slam,
His mum returns with another man,
"Get up stairs" his mother said,
And a hungry child goes off to bed.

It's eight o'clock when Ben awakes,
Breakfast is a bowl of flakes,
Got no time to wash your face,
Eat up fast you have to race,
Out the door don't hesitate,
Arrive at School ten minutes late.

All look up as Ben arrives,
Tears swell up inside his eyes,
Teacher wonders what's to blame,
As she contemplates his tiny frame,
"Sit down child you don't look well",
His classmates say that Ben does smell.

Ten O'clock and time for break,
Teacher will a phone call make,
Looks out onto the School playground,
Where Ben alone just walks around,
Has that child no friends she thinks,
As her cup of tea she drinks.

After School Ben hurries home,
His mum is there but not alone,
A lady with a book and pen,
Asking questions about Ben,
Mum said, "He's been off his food",
"Shake hands Ben, now don't be rude".

The lady said she had to hurry,
But would tell the teacher not to worry,
Could see that Ben was doing fine,
And would return another time,
"Ben You must try hard to eat",
"Ben's Mum you've been nice to meet".

With the stranger out of sight,
Ben's mum was ready for a fight
"What have you said you little ****",
As in a rage, her son she hit
Ben goes running up to bed,
Bells are ringing in his head.

For two days Ben has not been seen,
Teacher wonders what could it mean,
His mum has not informed the School
By telephone as is the rule.
Decides to call around next day,
Just to ask if Bens ok.

No answer as the door was knocked,
She pushed inside it wasn't locked,
Calls out loud. "Is someone there",
As she slowly climbed the stair.
Spotted Ben lying on the bed,
A blood stained sheet about his head.

In despair
She crossed the room
And wept beside a child for whom
Love or kindness never came,
And life became a losing game,
Ben kept his pain inside himself
He never knew to cry for help
But he lives on, and can be found
A child alone, in the playground
Ben never talks and hardly ever cries,
Abuse is often only,
Written in the eyes.


P.J McFadden  


This is my attempt at a ballad.