I am 8 years old
I dream of
flowers in my hair
dolls in my lap
fancy frocks to wear
a story book to read
enough food to eat
hugs from my father
kisses from my mother
pats from my teachers
but I don’t play
I work
tending to others flower
at the factory
mending dolls
stitching frocks
stapling story books
packing food
all accounted for
by the supervisor
a slight mistake
a slap across my face
stings the bones underneath
tears burn my cheeks
and blood tastes funny
what else can I do
I get no hugs
nor kisses
nor pats on my back
it’s heavy on my shoulders
but I have a world to carry
so I swallow my own blood
I have to finish here
to avoid
another slap
WordsWorthMillions 
So moving, so powerful. It pains me to think child slavery still goes on, but it pains me even more that so many people don’t care. They continue to buy labor products, blood diamonds, etc. People should be more concerned with where their products come from and how they’re made.
So many children in the world have this fate…it is one of the sad facts of the world we live in…a well crafted poem.
Wow- this poem is awesome! I’d like to invite you to join in a project I’m administrating: http://thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com/the-e-book-project/
This poem, or others like it would be absolutely perfect! Let me know if you are interested. π
Very sad, nice turn around after the opening lines.
http://jessicasjapes.wordpress.com/2010/12/13/ice-cream/
hm, i wish you are well. believe me when i say that i feel your pain. dont worry, we all will experience that love we craved as a child, it just may not come while we’re just 8.
here’s my link:
http://belladonna23.wordpress.com/2010/12/11/smoke-signals/
Wonderful! Love it >=P So fun reading this :3
Very powerful piece. You pulled me in with the happy thoughts of childhood, then the reality of the situation slapped me in the face making me feel just as this child. Well done!
Here’s mine:
http://mysticmarleei.wordpress.com/2010/12/12/shadow-dance/
I forget sometimes of the children of the world that are caught up in this hell.
What an emotional poem. It’s so easy to forget that such injustices still occur. Very well written.
Mine are here. http://razzamadazzle.wordpress.com/2010/12/12/i-am/ and http://razzamadazzle.wordpress.com/2010/12/12/hobbies-passions-pastimes-entertainment/