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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #910639
This was me from the age of 5. When I was 8 there was a murder in my lane...
I remember a little girl that stood, palpitated with fear,
At school the day progressed, but as the end drew near,
The lessons would be over, children would shout with glee,
After walking some of the way with friends; I stood; only me.

I had to go down a lane, with bushes piled high on one side,
And my breath came in gasps, my eyes fear opened wide.
I would think that I could hear following footsteps behind,
And always the shadows played tricks with my mind.

Sweating, my little legs would pump, up and down run fast,
Until my own back gate came into sight and at long last
Into the kitchen I’d crash, fall through the door in a rush,
The whole day I would pour out to my Mum in a gush.

I would feel safe in the light, with a mother I loved dear,
Yet I also felt unloved when daily home-time drew near,
I’d try not to blame her when I saw the table ready, laid,
For she’d never come to meet me for she was too afraid.

Many years later I sit, and have to write down how I feel
For so many years part of every day, I can now safely reveal,
I hated my Mum, for not being there at the school for me,
But my fears I conquered; and the little girl became me.
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