Poem #80 – Abused children’s lullaby

Hey there little sleepy girl!
Tonight daddy didn’t fall asleep on the curb.
He is home, punching mom, breaking stuff, cursing hard.
Be a good girl as mommy said and hide under
the bed, hope you won’t end up dead.

Hey there little sleepy boy!
One day you will grow so strong. So strong you will
defend them all, like a superhero punch daddy through the wall.
Be a good boy as mommy said and pray daddy won’t
fall asleep with a burning cigarette in his hand.

Hey there little sleepy kids!
Your window is on the second floor, easy to jump, maybe
break one bone. You’ve already done it twice, what’s some more?
Now close your eyes like mommy said, tomorrow is a brand new
day for you to listen mommy explain how again she fell down the stairs.

13 thoughts on “Poem #80 – Abused children’s lullaby

  1. It was in my brokenness I loved you the greatest but I’m bewildered as to your need to break me to see it when I offered it to you daily…pain free.

  2. My heart hurts from this.😔

  3. Now close your eyes like mommy said, tomorrow is a brand new
    day for you to listen mommy explain how again she fell down the stairs

    This is too familiar. It shows how much a mother is willing to do to protect her child 😞

  4. Luna, all your work is haunting and reflective, and somewhat frightening as it ventures too close to the cliff’s edge. Love it.

  5. Jesus, Luna. That was hard to read. It’s very moving. I hope there’s not too much reality in that.

    1. Well there is; but it provided inspiration. Thank you for the comment 😊

      1. That’s a hefty price to pay for inspiration. Big hugs from the other side of the world.

  6. What an intense poem. The movie of the picture you’ve painted runs in my head while I read your poem. I can feel every single word of yours.

  7. Absolutely Excellent.. I too debated the 20ft jump to get away @ 8.. I don’t think I Wld have survived it but thankfully I wasn’t brave enough.

  8. Ouch. Reading your story of growing up with an abusive, alcoholic father really gave this context. My father was not a kind man, either, military too and excessive drinker who whipped us as kids with a leather belt for the slightest infraction. He once beat me at age 6 because my school bus had an issue and was late (obviously my fault), then had my head shaved as punishment. My older sister moved out at 18 because my father was making sexual advances toward her, my older brother also at 18 because my father abused and hit him. I also left home at 17. But, there’s my mother, a beacon of light and love that brought some semblance of balance to his darkness. I never had a relationship with my father as an adult, but she was always there for me, and I will always be grateful for that balance to sadistic abuse. Namaste <3

    1. I am so sad to hear about your difficult childhood but in this comment I can see that you got the best out of it and learned to appreciate all of the good that life gives us. I hope you will always be this strong and grateful!

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