The Wounded Child

“The Pain Hurts So Bad, I Go Back To The Doctor“

Some of us were wounded children,

Now seeking healing in many things,

Alcohol, drugs, religion and passion

But of no effect. It seems it would take

A lifetime to find the answer to these

Illnesses, but when we run out of

Resources from within there is

A higher power to help…


My body is wrapped in layers

Of gauze, I am wrapped like a

Spool of yarn, my shape has

Been marred

I have been harmed, punctured

From the barbed wire fence

That constrains me, in this

Battle so fierce

I am stiff, I cannot bend over

Stiff as a corpse with no way out

Two small slits for eyes, from

Other people disguised, I have

Been to the surgeon, doctors

And hospital, they tried to remove

My stitches

They say my wounds are too deep

To treat…

The threads tighten about my head

my tight gauze suit a pillar of

White restricting air

There are lesions with noxious


I swell, I fester, the pain hurts so

Bad, I go back to the doctor, as

If they have an answer

No one to help me, if I could

Only get someone to carve me

Open, but I am just too broken


From this cloak of sutures He

Will mend me and remove the

Bandage from my heart

I am an escapist, stepping out

Of this covering of skin, that I

May be well again…

The cords that bind us, the fence

that confines us are removed

We are set free…

Portions of this poem are from
the book
“Weeping Child To Forgiving Child’

We are set free….

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