the perspective i wrote this from was that of the "neighbor" who lives next door to the abuser/abused. so many people ignore the "cry for help" because they think its not their responsibility, or they are too scared to get involved. this particular poem shows the indifference being taken over by the fear.
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I see their dirty little faces smiling
as they’re digging up the bulbs
Id only just planted a week ago.
How those children run wild
no shoes, snotty noses and all that noise
bellowing from their semi toothless mouths.
I only wish someone would come and collect them
and let my garden rest,
but I should mind my own business
they’re no child of mine.
Soon enough they'll be forced inside,
with the curtains drawn
and the shouting shaking the windows.
Those bruised little legs know
how brutal "welcomes" can be
when quitting time runs late at the factory
and ten dollars have to get you through the week.
but I should mind my own business
they’re no child of mine.
At night with my window opened just enough
to let the cool breeze in;
so often does it smuggle with it
the crying of unloved hearts
in tiny little chests, breathing
heavily from exhaustion.
How hard the work must be to raise the hand
to the wounded, the abandoned.
but I should mind my own business
they’re no child of mine.
I’ll just close my eyes and hope
that dreaming will find the peace
needed from my long day of peeping
through the parting of my drapes.
And when morning comes in anxious hours
I wait to see their dirty little faces smiling
as they’re digging up the bulbs,
wishing somebody would take them away.....
but I should mind my own business
they’re no child of mine.