Young girl

You were one of my favorites

Ironic because you gave everyone the most trouble

Sweet, innocent and filled with all the impurities of the world at the same time

The definition of an oxymoron

You never bothered to stop, you always wanted more on

How to cover up the scars that life has given you

You covered your scars with more scars

With drugs, alcohol and std’s

In class you got D’s and out of class you got the D

All of this for a pain you were intent on suppressing

You let me know you loved me, but it was a slippery slope and you couldn’t stop

You were like my little sister, I love you a lot

I took you to my family’s house

I cooked your favorite ethnic meals and when you came home high

I just sighed

And took you into my arms

I understood

You’re not too young anymore

You left abruptly

You didn’t even know you were leaving

You were there one day and when I came back to do my work

My untiring work on you, you were gone…

Where are you now?

Lost in the world

Almost 18

What will you do then?

You used to cry day in and day out for my family to adopt you

I wanted so badly to take you in

But once again

you were taken away by the system.


Disposable Children


You were born to mothers who threw you in dumpsters

Like Kaihla did Isaiah

Little seeds planted in concrete, trying so hard to find your way up

At night you stay up laid up

Wondering what you ever did to not be good enough

Uprooted from your soil always having your foundation changed just when you begin to plant your roots

No wonder you were never able to grow

Progress comes slow

Because the nurturing you need is not free

At least not when you’re a child of the county

Your parent figures rely on the figures of their paycheck

And society says it’s your own fault that you’re a wreck

Says that you have no sense of respect,

When no one ever showed you what respect looked like

And it should be something that’s wielded unto you all the more

You, children of the night, have gone through more than any of us can imagine

And we just brush you off in a nonchalant fashion

We could learn a few things from you

Like, how to survive

How to hold your own when really you’re dying inside

It’s not fair; that therapy can’t do anything to solve the life you were born into

It’s not fair that you ALWAYS have the rug pulled from under your feet when you begin to


That word alone, when whispered, during your evaluations feels like an uphill battle

Because no matter how hard you try there’s something else,

The staff has recorded

Something else

The administrator wants you to perfect


Something else your social worker forgot to tell you to do

Haven’t all these people in all these positions got a clue?

You are their work but they know nothing of what it’s like to be you

At 5 o’clock they put you behind them

When you really need someone standing behind you when,

Their off-hours are your peak hours of vulnerability

Hello! We’re all humans.

These children will mess up, just like us-

 Have you ever considered that possibility?!

They’re no more perfect than us

But one slip-up and its back to square one

Why do we hold them to such strict standards we don’t even treat our own like that?

No wonder they feel like there’s no battle to be won

We keep telling them that the end is right around the corner

When their journey has only just begun

These poor tortured souls endure all this

And we wonder why they slit their wrists or turn to drugs so young