The Pathetic Child  

BrightonCrazee 48M
5 posts
1/20/2006 2:43 am

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

The Pathetic Child


He didn't know what he had done
And no one seemed to care
He had not asked to be in this world
With no ones love to share
He had been through more in life
Than most people would know
Cry out in desperation for help
But help always came too slow

He was forever locked away
Out of sight and out of mind
He only knew the violence of life
To him no one was kind
He was small and innocent
But continual pain would take its toll
Heaven would welcome this pathetic child
When but only a few months old

I scribbled this back in November 1985. It was written whilst still under the influence of anaesthetic, post-op in a hospital bed. I wrote another verse at the same time. I was unaware that I had penned anything until much later and a nurse had retrieved the paper from the floor and brought them to my attention.

At work I had recently taken a child into care. It was a baby and we had to literally prise the child from the mother's arms. It was a boy, his name was Daniel. That's all I remember of him. A couple of days before my admission into hospital I had read an article in the newspaper about a young child that had been locked away in a cupboard. He was starved to death. Perhaps we had saved Daniel from a similar fate.

It had a profound effect on my colleague and I. He was older but in the patrol car afterwards he started to weep. A year previously he had been on duty when the Grand Hotel in Brighton had been blown up by the IRA. He had helped pull people, alive and dead from the ruins. He cried there too. A year or two later he left work a broken man. I don't know what became of him. It was a shame because he was a nice guy with a wicked sense of humour.

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