Today I was sent a moving poem on child abuse, as written by the 3 year old victim, Sarah. Here is my reply
On the train late last week I saw “Sarah” or a younger version. Her Mum and Dad both dressed in trakkies and hidden behind dark sunnies. Mum was lying on a train seat with one kid nearby in a pram. “Sarah” was with her Dad and her brother, sitting opposite Mum. All at the end of the carriage.
All of a sudden the whole carriage looks up when the Dad roars at Sarah. In terror she goes screaming to Mum. Mum then yells at Dad; “that was HER fkin Donut! You have given him HER fkin Donut!!” Probably breakfast. The Mum is now seething, so much so she nearly drops the open stubby of beer she is holding.
After rounding on the Father with another minute or so of fks and donuts, she turns back to Sarah, who is now nearly hysterical with shock and fear. Does Mum comfort the terrified girl? Does she dry her tears and hold her?
No. She shakes her, like a rag doll and yells at her to shut up.
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