There once was a child, a young little girl,
So sweet and innocent, her hair in a curl.
She was independent, spoke very seldom,
Her mind always dwelling on how she had failed them.
One night so dark, she was all alone.
The complaints of her stomach continued to drone.
No food in the house, she settled for Sprite,
Climbed up on the counter, shaking with fright.
She opened the cupboard, and eyed the top glass,
She struggled and struggled and reached it alas.
Proud of herself for her unaided quest,
She leaped from the counter, very impressed.
But escaped from her grasp, did fall the glass,
Before she could catch it, it was too fast.
Reaching the ground, it shattered on impact
And along went her heart, her spirit was wracked.
Hide the pieces, hide the fragments,
Cutting her fingertips in her hasty attempts.
But it was too late, up drove the car,
In stepped the “parents”, the door left ajar.
They flipped on the lights and caught the mess
The dysfunctional flicker beckoned redress.
The essence of alcohol filled the air.
The child looked up with tears of despair.
“What a nuisance, what a disgrace,
Any more of these screw-ups I just cannot take,
Our household’s been tainted with this little mistake,
She whines and cries, and just takes up space.”
The young little child’s self-esteem had been broken.
Hope drifted away with the words that were spoken.
She made up her mind, and tonight she would flee,
The past and the present, a distant memory.
She sought the tunnel that held her fate,
And at the end, and bright light would wait.
Astray in the streets, alone in the night,
The war within her continued to fight.
Drowning her eyes, lashes gasping for air,
She wandered aimlessly, vision impaired.
Then over the hill came the destined bright glare,
It greeted its target with no time to spare.
With shame on the scene, the driver drove on,
The once dire battlefield was left there till dawn.
In the morning, a cop found the tragedy.
The parents were called and informed of the casualty.
When asked to explain why their child was alone,
The couple pretended this mystery was unknown.
But after hours of anguish, the parents gave in,
In tears they poured out the story of their sin.
The years of neglect, tequila and rum,
The yelling and fighting, forced her to run.
When repentance had neared the end of its tale,
There was one more revelation to unveil.
When they’d discovered their child had run away,
They were flooded with guilt and disarray
Bodies drenched in toxins, they grabbed the car keys,
To search for their little evacuee.
“We were under the influence,” they cried in sorrow.
“It’s our fault she won’t be here tomorrow.”
Narrative Poem for Creative Writing Class, ~9th grade