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The Little Boy
January 2, 2014
He sat alone in his treehouse
A purple bruise sprouting on his eye
he had learned not to weep
It would only be worse
He ignored the pain and read books
So smart for his age
But Daddy didn't see that
Not since Mommy died
Daddy saw a failure
A disappointment
And always told the little boy so
It stung his soul more than his body
"Why doed Daddy hate me?"
He'd wonder
The little boy would cry himself to slumber
In the cold, rickety treehouse
© Courtney K., Bethel Park, PA
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