But It’s For The Children…

Imagine your new, squalling baby,
the hopes, the heart, the love, the clasping hands,
the rare unwoken night, the early smile, the throwing up,
taking her round the house to welcome her to her home.

Imagine waking one morning to discover your child
a hollow, plastic shell,
a light, cold, unmoving, hard and nasty toy,
with cracked, faded red cheeks, and a price tag on her foot.






this archive is hosted by arts & ego
© 1978–2024 dylan harris   some rights reserved