Content Warning: Please be aware that some of the stories on these pages contain details and descriptions of abuse which you might find disturbing or upsetting.

The Long Walk


A Plea to the Learned

 

Conception joy nine months of wait

Pushing out through a narrow gate

I cry, then faint, losing so much blood

I welcome my baby into our twosome hood

 

Puddle jumping, riding bikes

Climbing trees and taking hikes

We paint and draw, play dress up games

Puzzles, dancing, making up names

 

Schoolwork, friends, parties galore

National Trust, sleepovers, and so much more

We laughed and cried and played and danced

We sang and loved our lives enhanced

 

The sweetest cuddles, the softest touch

I could never love a child so much

 

Then darkness came from a TV screen

A look a word to break our dream

Preying eyes and sticky hands

Making mini beasts of the cutest lambs

 

Smoking pot and drinking came

Running from home became a game

Promises of better from ugly faces

Taking my child to disgusting places

 

My lamb to slaughter quickly went

Abusive words and rage unspent

Kicking screaming smashing things

Chaos, disorder this grooming brings

 

Crying siblings, mama broken

Calls for help and gets no token

So in they come with clipboards bent

Judging parents no sympathy felt

 

Reports were wrote, truth and justice gone

Making up stories, from breast, the child was torn

With disbelief, my heart it bled

All help lost, instead, with child they fled

 

Fighting in court, I hoped they’d see

That grooming and blame didn’t come from me

Business broken , money gone

Moving house, without her, no home

 

The judge he rules, a portly chap

His stern, drinking face delivered the slap

Not coming home but in another’s hands

A temporary mother has my firstborn lamb

 

To a system shattered by lack of cash

I implore you to stop and think of us

Mamas and Papas are not always to blame

Victims of another’s grooming game

 

They take our kids, fresh meat they say

Vulnerable and hurting, they make them play

They know the words they use will bring

“Fresh lambs to the slaughter” these bastards sing

 

So listen gents and ladies too

Those who sit on seats and make the rules

Regard  our stories, our sobs and pleas

Stop the slaughter save our lambs

 

Save future kids from grooming hands

You have the power you have the pen

Stop this pain repeating again and again and again

Subscribe to our Newsletter

If you would like to be updated on news from The Maggie Oliver Foundation and subscribe to our Newsletter then please enter the preferred email address below:

I consent to the Privacy Policy and to my data being used to process this form.

© Copyright 2025 Maggie Oliver Foundation | CIO REG: 1185267

Website design by Beyond Your Brand

This website uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website. Read our Privacy Policy to find out more.