Trash heap child

At six,
They moved him to the pile,
Of things we cannot cope with,
Placed him on the top,
Leaving with muttered words,
Of “he’ll be fine.”
He has the school,
And neighbors to watch him,
And we are busy,
We don’t have the time.
Our lives are full of things,
We need to cope with.
Our lives are hard,
And money’s awfully tight,
There’s work,
And church,
And family to manage.
He’ll be alright,
For just another day.
And so they were not there,
When bad men hurt him.
They didn’t see the scars,
From other boys.
They didn’t catch the closing,
Of a young mind.
They didn’t see the path,
He had to take.
They called him bad,
And later called him sinful.
They asked him what
His fucking problem was?
They asked why he had,
To hate his sister.
They asked him why he had,
To hate his dad.
He didn’t hate,
Because he didn’t know them.
They never took the the time,
With him at all.
The distance want hate,
But formed by absence.
Withal caused from cries,
That none heard.
Later on they criticized,
His dreaming.
They said his head and heart,
Were in the clouds.
They never took the time,
To see his genius,
Because they couldn’t,
Understand his mind.
And then one day,
He rose and left the ashes.
Found sparkle in the dust,
Of all their lies.
That had told him what he was,
And what he should be.
He decided,
Like a Phoenix,
To arise.



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