I tell you a story

by Dagmar Wilson   Sep 23, 2017

Being born in the 50's
not long after the war,
you eat what's on the table or
your stomach be growling.

There were rules
you could not think for yourself,
if you tried you got slapped across the face.

Bruises covered my body
"I fell down the stairs" was my excuse,
you were forced to tell a lie.

There was no time to play outside
the chores kept me busy,
friends were not allowed.
Nothing I did would meet their satisfaction.

Despite the regiment
it could not break me,
the scars are indefinite the pain is gone.
That is a choice I've made.

After 60 some years I think I am healed.


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Latest Comments

  • 2 years ago

    by Meena Krish

    There is much to gather from the words penned here
    and its very very sad to read them. You have been through a
    lot and the last line shows your courage...take care and make sure
    you don't loose that inner strength!

  • 2 years ago

    by Ya----Na

    I have no idea about the 50`s, but thank God I didn't born in that era and the poem is sad what you have to go through to survive.

  • 2 years ago

    by mossgirl19

    This is heartbreaking to read, Dagmar. Thanks for sharing this.

  • 2 years ago

    by CJ Maleney


    I don't think we ever truly heal.
    We just become accustomed and oblivious to the pain.

    Then we make bloody sure we do not create the same.

    Fantastic poem


  • 2 years ago

    by Michael


    Such a sad piece that's resonates deeply, and probably not just with myself. The brutality of being a child. Such a brave poem that bears scars forever.

    Much warmth and love

    Michael :)

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