Amy

Her name was Amy.
she was no older than five.
This is a poem,
about the time she was alive.

Her mom was an addict,
her father a drunk,
they kept her locked up
in the attic.

Her one friend,
was a small toy bear.
It was worn and old,
with tufts of hair missing here and there.
She whispered to it,
when she was all alone.
Amy would lay there and hug it,
Sad to the bone.

Untill her parents,
would come and unlock the small door.
More pain and hurt
she had to indure


A scar on her cheek,
a bruise on her face,
why would she,
be stuck in this place?

But she just grabbed her bear,
and softly cries
she could love her parents,
but they want her to die.

She would just sit in her corner.
hugging her bear, thinking,
why, why am i always sinking?

Then, one dreadful night,
her dad came in drunk.
The girl was hit and thrown,
all around like junk.

Then her father,
brought out a knife.
It was sharp as hell,
With this he intended to end her life.

He thrust it,
right in her chest.
"you deserve to die,
you worthless little pest"

The father struggled out,
leaving Amy dying.
She just grabbed her toy bear,
and began crying.

The police finally showed up
at the small ramshackle of a house.
They quickly barged in,
but it was quieter than a mouse.

One loan officer slowly,
opened the attic door.
To find our little Amy,
laying on the floor.

No one could help her,
she was past half gone.
The life in her,
flew away by the light of dawn.

It must of been painfull,
living through all that harm,
but at least she died,
with her best friend in her arms.