my name is bethy
i am three
my eyes are swollen
i can not see.
my little feet hurt really bad
its because of the burns of daddys cigar ash
i'm a bad little girl, daddy always says.
thats why my butt stays so red.
i press my self against the wall
to try and make it down the hall.
shhh be quiet don't wake daddy!
oh no! i spilt my sippy cup! he's not gonna be
i think the belt....
had left too many whelps.
i heard them say i couldn't take it anymore.
thats why i dropped to the floor.
it doesn't hurt anymore and i feel free because
my name was bethy...
i was three...
that night my daddy murderd me.
A poem written by a friend
Etiquetas: Poems of heavy pain