Living is a Privilage

I did not write this my friend sent me this…..

my name is sarah

i am but three

my eyes are swollen i cannot see

i must be stupid i must be bad

what else could of made my daddy so mad?

 i wish i were better i wish i werent ugly

then maybe my mommy would still want to hug me

i cant speak at all

i cant do a wrong

or else im locked up all the day long

when i awake im all alone

the house is dark my folks arent home

when my mommy does come

i’ll try and be nice

so maybe i get just one whipping tonight

dont make a sound i just heard a car

my daddy is back from charlie’s bar

i hear him curse my name he calls

i press myself against the wall

i try and hide from his evil eyes im so afraid

now im starting to cry he finds me weeping

he shouts ugly words

he says its my fault that he suffers at work

he slaps me and hits me and yells at me more

i finally get free and i run for the door

hes already locked it and i start to bawl

he takes me and throws me against the hard wall

i fall to the floor with my bones nearly broken

and my daddy continues with more bad words spoken

“im sorry” i scream but its much now too late

his face has been twisted into unimaginable hate

the hurt and the pain again and again

oh please god have mercy oh please let it end

and he finally stops and heads for the door

while i lay motionless sprawled on the floor

my name is sarah and i am but three

tonight my daddy murdered me