Childline Lockdown

With the Coronavirus lockdown, children are at even greater risk of abuse. This could be emotional, mental, sexual or physical, but a lot of the reports the NSPCC are getting are related to emotional abuse. It is proving harder for social workers to gain access to homes due to lack of personal protective equipment, social distancing and lack of staffing.

NSPCC can be contacted here:0808 800 5000 or via

Here’s a poem I wrote through the eyes of a victim.

Childline Lockdown

I don’t know what
I did wrong
Cooped up
24 hours a day
Radio blaring
Happy people singing
Bullshit songs
To people in
Their bullshit lives
Abusive husbands
Battered wives
Shit scared kids
As tempers fry
And swift fists fly
And I swallow all
My tears
Cos if I cry
He will get angry
Again I’m
In enough
Fucking pain

I have a friend
I call him Ted
He’s been with me
Since I was two
Keeps the monsters
Out from under
The bed
Soaks up the blood
When my dad
Sees red
But it’s the monsters
In the daytime
I’m really scared of
I call them dad
And mum

Social workers
Knocking on the door
But mum knows how
To play it
Long sleeves
Hide the bruises
Walked into the door
Hit my head
On the table
So careless
One day I’d probably
End up dead
Social worker suspicious
But dad always says
I was clumsy

Ted understands me
I can tell him
When dad is
Temper raging
Ted helps me to sing
Over the Rainbow
If I had a phone
Then I would ring
But it’s the fists
I fear

And it’s a long time
Till I am sixteen
Then I will tell
Them all
To fuck themselves
That day I’ll
Be queen
In my own kingdom
And there’ll be no
Fists for bombs
No ‘what did I do
So fucking wrong?’
And I will shine
That day
Like a

©2020 Sarah Drury

Safety Sold Her Soul to the Devil


I know we are supposed to be staying at home safe, but for many families this must be hell. With calls to the domestic violence charities increasing by 125 percent this is a frightening statistic. Covid-19 has created more than one monster!

Sylvia was sick of this
Covid shit
Feeding hungry kids
Nourishing a wanker
And she went without
She was the bottom
Of this bullshit
Her stomach had shrunk
Though not with starvation
But blows of fists
And punchbag jabs
Venom exhaling from
His every bullying breath
She was sick of fighting
Invisible defeats
She feared for her kids
She was shit scared
The battered bravado

Sylvia wasn’t a looker
She’d easily pass
For a cut price hooker
Greasy blonde locks
Roots as imposing
As a Jehovah’s Witness
When you’re trying
To have a fuck
With the devil
The odd tooth graced her
Docker’s gob
Through which the
Profanities whistled
And the fuck you’s
Fucked you

The odd tooth departed
When the abusive
Loser let his flimsy
Free reign fists
Caress her feisty mouth
And her smudgy
Panda eyed styling
Wasn’t L’Oreal
Or Maybelline
It may have been
She was
Five minutes late
Fixing his bastard tea

The kids are driving me
Fucking insane
When are you going
To Fuck me again?
You’ve been fucking
That other bloke again!
You want to know why
I fucking hate you?
Don’t give me
Another reason to
Blame you
Cos let’s not admit
I’m an arsehole

She was supposed to be home
Keeping safe
But the government
Don’t live with monsters
They don’t have vaccines
For dickhead abusers
Only coffins
For the beaten

©2020 Sarah Drury

From Your Lips Young Mum

New poem…’From Your Lips Young Mum’

WARNING: explicit language

From your lips young mum

My universal credit comes today
A takeaway from the Chinese
Fake Adidas trainers
Blow some money on Primark tat
A bit of this, a bit of that
A bit of baccy, a bit of blow
Nappies for the wee ‘un
The tenner I owe Pat
Fill the cupboards
tins and convenience food
Money’s gone
That will be that
And can you see this bruise on my arm
My bloke went ballistic
Battered me black and blue
But I love him
and know deep down he meant me no harm
We had a good shag to make up
Hide the bruises
There’s no need for alarm
And did you see that slag Becky
Love bites on her neck
Think she’s shagging that drug dealer
The one with the Merc who owns that discotheque
Susie Walker
Five kids with five different dads
Flogging her fanny
Flaunting her tits round the back of the pub
for a bit of a grope with the lads.
Missed my soaps last night
Hey, what happened in Corrie?
Was there any scandal
Me and Tyson were having a fight
He smashed the TV then smashed my jaw
The kids came down
Screaming Mummy Mummy
So he kicked the kitchen door
Then fucked off
And I cried some more
And I feel broken
But I know he loves me really
And I’ll hold on to him dearly
And he’ll bring me chocolates and flowers in the morning.
Managed to nick some make up from Boots today
Will flog it round the estate
Should buy some blow
Should keep us ay okay
Barry brought some dodgy chicken
Off the back of a lorry
But three for a fiver
Dinner for three days
And the kids won’t be sorry
Did you see that Jason
From the flats?
Dating that fifteen year old
What a pervy twat
Should be locked up
What are her parents thinking?
They don’t really give a shit
They’re too busy out drinking
Tyson’ll be home in a few minutes
Better go back home
He’ll be on the phone
Checking I’m not tongue wagging
Telling sorry tales about his anger issues
Or I’ll take a beating
And no amount of Kleenex tissues
Will soothe my broken nose.
Better go back home.

©2020 Sarah Drury

Wrecking Ball

To all the domestic abuse survivors


You, my wrecking ball
I your derelict
A palette of purple
Green blue hues
Priceless masterpiece
Painted by ‘loving’ hands
Place your fist in my face
One more time.
Colour your tattered canvas
Add a splash more colour
Perhaps a dash of red
In war-torn rivulets.
Smite me!
Chalk bone pastels
Cruel blood oils
Watercolour tears
I am a work of the art of your rage
Hang me in the museums
Display me in the galleries
Parade your finesse
For we do not do fine dining
And I will never know
The taste of an apology.

©2019 Sarah Drury

Farewell Innocence

I am a child
And innocence
Innocence you owed me nothing.
When you held up your weapon.
Into the heart of
My sinlessness
into the heart of
My righteousness
into the heart of
My guiltlessness
into the heart of
My blamelessness.
Straight into
My heart bleeds
With the remorseful blood
Of my sins
My heart bleeds
If it is a sin to be a victim
I will perish
In the burning vaults of Hell
Although I am there
And I am burnt
And the devil had a kinder demeanor
Than the hallowed nuns and priests
Purveyors of misery
Since God gave them power
Over the voiceless innocents.
I will be defiled
At the hands of those
Who cup my sanguine little heart
In hands gnarled with the falsehood
Of celebrity faces
Parading their goodness
On the silver screen
Dipping toes into
In forbidden oceans
Possessing innocence
Like an evil spirit
Possesses a holy child.
Aim again at my head
Digital technology
Leaves me for dead
See him, grooming so sweetly?
He asked me ‘How old?’
I told him ‘Old enough’
He told me
‘over 13’s not welcome’
‘and do you have any interested friends?’
The curse of Facebook
And Snapchat
And Whatsapp
And Instagram
As age is not a truth
And you’re only as old
As the filter on your selfie.

I am a child
And innocence
You owed me everything.
In a day that playing in the streets
Is a travesty
As hungry eyes
Sick with the affliction
Of deviant sexuality
Scrutinize the imagined suitability
Of a pure heart innocent
Cerebrally laid at the altar
Of an act so despicable
I turn the weapon
I aim it at your twisted head
For all I despise your sickness
And the fact that
I cannot live in a world
Where I am safe
I am loved
And am not a victim
Of sexual perversion
I cannot kill you
Because you are a God
In this monopoly
Of this sick society
In which we so sadly
You live.
YOU live.
I die.

© Sarah Drury 2019