Broken Poetry

Three Little Kids

Three little children play by the river, their smiles full of freedom and happiness. The one place where they were free of their worries.

One of them, so skinny and poor. Never had a place to call home. Never had a warm fire to sit by when the weather grew colder . Never had a family who cared. Never had any clothes besides a brown shirt and torn jeans.

The other, the most beautiful little girl around. Her smiles so pearly, her skin so perfect, her body so eye catching. Tears always ran down her face, so sick and tired of the untrue names. Her mother yelling and screaming at her, she was never good enough.

The last, held so many bruises, cuts, burns, scars, and scabs. His kind heart, and genius mind never went noticed by the people at home. His father always drunk, his mother never around. He always became the punching bag for the anger surrounding him.

These three little kids, the best of friends, always played fun little games. They told all their secrets, and cried together before going into the calm, soothing water of the river to heal. To get away from the pain of living.

Two little kids play by the river.

One stood crying on the other's shoulder, while the body of the skinny boy lay dead by his favorite tree. Although they had given him food and jackets, he still fell ill, and he still wouldn't have made it.

They both eventually move on, but never forget about the boy who gave what little he had for the happiness of others.

The two visit the grave they made for him everyday, always leaving his favorite flower, and a cup of water from the river, to heal. Then they go to the river, cry some more before playing their games and telling their secrets.

Now as teens, they fell in love.

As the girl waited for his arrival at the grave of the boy, she soon realized that he wasn't coming.

He lay dead on the floor of his home. A home beaten and bruised just like his body. She screamed and cried out, holding his beaten body close to hers.

One grown girl sits by the river, tears streaming down her face, and a knife in her hands.

Two graves sat under the tree, both covered with flowers, and water from the river, in hopes for them to have a peaceful afterlife.

Zero kids play by the river, one lay dead at the bottom, the water around her turning red. Her body never found, her life a living hell. She watched beautiful things die, and horrible things live.

Now she was a beautiful woman, dead at the bottom of the red river.