Transparent teardrop clear as
the mind of a small boy
defines his short life's story
as it falls gently down his soft brown cheek.

Six short years marred by
neglect from his mother
blighted by an illness
stealing her affection and love.

Incapable of understanding eyes so blue
he'd climb up on her lap
put his arms around her neck plead
He desperately wanted to go to school that day.

Filthy, hungry, tug at the door
Murky tears run down his face
Another day, she won't respond
Innocent eyes stare, a needle, used, lies on the floor.

"Mummy just looks at me, doesn't talk"
he'd tell the police.
She doesn't make me breakfast
or kiss me at night.
Humbled teardrop,
saddened by the suffering,
falls hard down the grown man's cheek.

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