Victims, by Robyn Brann

She’s just eight years old
Buying her mothers fill
Because it keeps her calm
When she takes the pretty pill

He’s just four years old
He’s done nothing wrong
But his daddy has got to prove
He’s still strong

She doesn’t stand a chance
Stuck in the I.C.U
Her mother was on drugs
Nothing more they can do

She hears his footsteps
Coming down the hall
She feels so scared
Presses her back to the wall

He’s kind and gentle
For her it’s never enough
But he doesn’t want to hurt her
Even when she gets rough

At school she hides the bruises
But it never ends
Every night they beat her
Because her existence offends

He cuts his wrists
Every night
He can’t cope anymore
He doesn’t want to fight

Drugs are the only way
To dull the pain
He hates the memories
Replaying over and over again

They buried her today
She took her own life
But it was those girls from school
Who really held the knife

She rubs her skin red raw
Trying to get clean
But she feels she hasn’t been for a while
Not since she was thirteen

He already knows
He can’t do anything right
His mum hates his existence
He’s got no strength left to fight

Covers the newest bruise
Tells her kids it was a mistake
They don’t know tomorrow
Mummy won’t wake

She makes him feel
Like a waste of space
Calls him stupid, ugly, useless
To her he’s just a disgrace

She won’t go out alone
In case it happens again
She can’t even leave the house
It only happened down the lane

They sit alone at school
They’ve got no friends
The bullying, hate and abuse
Simply never ends

We are the victims of our love
We are the victims of our trust
We are the victims of your hate
We are the victims of your lust

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