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

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