Twisted, contorted,
on the cold tiled floor,
used, abused
behind a locked door.
No screams are heard,
no pitiful cries,
tear stained cheeks,
a broken child inside.
Who will free them,
from this nightmarish life,
who will come and save them this night,
who cares enough,
who will show concern,
for the battered children bruised, starved and burnt.
fauxcroft 
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