A Child

I don’t understand why I don’t have a mummy and daddy.

 

All of my toys do, but I don’t.

 

It’s not fair!

 

Why does this toy have to go when that one can stay?

 

They fall down and don’t get up.

 

Then the red stuff spills everywhere.

 

What is the red stuff?

 

It’s sticky and hot and smells bad.

 

I ask them these questions, but they don’t answer.

 

I can feel them everyday.

 

Their pain as they fall.

 

They’re scared.

 

And when they are scared, I am too.

 

I don’t want to be scared.

 

But I am.

 

Who am I?

The End

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