Father was an alcoholic,

forced her mother to sell her body.

Every single penny used to feed his habit.

A child of only eight,

silently weeped as her mother died of aids.

Every tantrum or scream,

resulted in her father striking her.

He finally died smiling,

a victim to his desire for intoxication.

Orphan child of eight,

Her eyes heavy with sorrow

that no child her age should suffer.

Alone, tired and hungry,

she became a cog of flesh and blood,

working hard labour in a factory.

Childhood fading, soul damaged,

now a slave of circumstance.

Her clothes dirty and tattered,

her face an image of abjection,

her future looked bleak.

Till the day a million angels cried,

drenched in their tears,

a man came to her aid.

As he saw her smile,

she became his child.

~John Lawless~