Victorian Christmas

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about a victorian era work house boy left by his parents to work

Submitted: July 11, 2008

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Submitted: July 11, 2008



The night is cold with death at it’s door.
I am here, silently waiting for some one to care,
Some one to share,
Some one to take away my pain.
I wait for someone who will help.
Waiting where they left me.
I’m waiting here all alone to pay for the mistakes of a misled son.
What am I to do here?
All alone on my own.
Inept in thought.
Inept in battle.
With no place to go,
And no one to go to.
I shudder in the darkness of a great plagued humanity.
Why does no one care to help?
Those that linger about.
In the darkness of the night.
Do they not care?
Are they that cruel?
Why does no one care to help?
The very people they put here to roam about
How could he just leave me here?
To bare the thoughts of my sin.
What did I do so terribly wrong?
Why won’t you come and see me, it’s been too long.
Please I’ll try to change myself.
Just come back and help me out.
Don’t leave me here to linger about all alone without a doubt,
That you don’t love me or care anymore,
About how I am and how I’m feeling old.
Does this mean I’m not a family member?
Now you’ve left me alone Once upon a December.

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