A poem written by a friend

Child abuse by mactownlady 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 happy. 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.

I WAS A VICTIM

I was drunk, I was young

I wanted to have fun

I was only fifteen years old

He was forty four

He promised to show me the way

“There will be girls” so he said

Got me drunk, took me all the way

I cried and cried “I am not gay”

My mind went away then,

While he used me in that den

I like girls, I am a man, I yelled

I was not heard

What a lesson I had to learn

Never get drunk

With an older man

You do not know

ABOUT EVERY DAY

The man walks down the street
Everybody says hello to him,
He smiles and waves back
As he gets into his new van

That man is very nice
His manners are so polite
Everybody thinks he is a good man
So cool, he always has a plan

When the evening arrives
He gets home saying hello to his wife
He looks peaceful, he looks calm
Listening to the music of Chopin

There is such silence in the house
Where is the girl he asks?
In her bedroom, she replies
Calmly with pride, he smiles

He looks content with the life he has
He has conquered with his charm
The honey taste of success
He feels good and blessed

Now the wife goes to bed
Are you coming, dear, to bed?
In a moment I’ll be there
Thinking that life is very fair

He enters the room, takes of his clothes
Into the bed he crawls
Now he is passionately making love to her
Letting her have his excited breath

Now the passion is over,
There is a sound of sobbing there
Did you like it? – he asks
Answer me – he demands
The bedroom he is in is not his…
Crying, “Go away please”
(The little girl says)

(This happens almost every day)