The child wonders why,
but there are no answers
to an unspoken question.

The black and blue,
of his skin,
tells the tale,

The lack of love,
leaves him lonely,
he needs someone, not them

The stomp on the stairs
sends him to sleep,
pretending, hoping, wishing

The footfalls find their way,
stifled sobs, keep silent,
but pretences are put aside

The infant only wants to be held,
not by a liquor laden stranger.

The End

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