Poetry Home | Contents


My father beats me up
Just like his father did
And grandad, he was beaten
by greatgrandad as a kid

From generation to generation
A poisoned apple passed along
Domestic daily cruelty
No-one thinking it was wrong

And it was:

Not the cursing and the bruising
The frustration and the fear
A normal child can cope with that
It grows easier by the year

But the ignorance, believing
That the child is somehow owned
Property paid for
Violence condoned.

Not Known