I remember it well

Father what great lies you conclude with,

Really I find you quite deluded,

Of course I heard you fighting,

An angry curse to my every heartbeat.

The locked door deprived me of freedom,

'The man on the moors' you said,

Would often soon make me dead.

You warned; the bad man would take me away.

I wasn't a difficult child Daddy,

I wanted to stay, with you, with Mummy,

Snapped, dressed in a new pink frock,

My eyes were crying tears of sorrow; not joy.

They weren't stern mother they were Evil,

Of course I seemed happy,

You never cared to ask me how I was,

Locked away like some hideous Beastie.

I was beaten Parents, repeatedly,

I was seen not heard, no voice to protest,

Just like you were herd, not seen.

Of course my soul was skid marked with sin,

You handed me to Hell yourselves.

Well really what did you think they did?

Hmm mother? What about you father you knew best,

The secret police of my childhood were a farce.

I called them back; I'm talking to them,

And you deny everything saying you,

You! Have the facts!

Your truth is corrupted, that of an onlooker.

It's me your little girl who was hurt, hurting still.

I remember it well.

Shannon Doyle