My Name Is Chris And I Am Three Years Old

Hi. This is an email that was sent to me on the internet. I don't know who to give credit for the writing and original posting of this poem. Whoever you are, thanks for showing us the worst side of child abuse.

For those of you who are unaware, WAKE UP! This happens everyday somewhere in the world. Silence lets it happen. If you do a search for incest or sexual abuse on the internet, you will find that many of us who have survived childhood abuse are now speaking up and breaking the silence of our own abuse at the hands of our parents, our neighbors, our siblings, our aunts or uncles, grandfathers, someone else that we trusted and sometimes by complete strangers. Today most of us know someone who is living with abuse or who survived a childhood of abuse. If you don't know the signs of childhood abuse, check out this cite that I just recently found thanks to Surviving By Grace ( http://thethirdfloorwindow.blogspot.com/ ). The site is called Let Go, Let Peace Come In Foundation blog and is found at the following link:
http://www.letgoletpeacecomein.org/ .

Here is the poem that I wanted to share with you. Beware of emotions ahead. The name of the poem is "Daddy ............ it hurts".

"My name is Chris,
I am three,
My eyes are swollen,
I cannot see.

I must be stupid,
I must be bad,
What else could have made,
My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better,
I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my mommy,
Would still want to hug me.

I can't do a wrong,
I can't speak at all,
Or else I'm locked up,
All day long.

When I'm awake,
I'm all alone,
The house is dark,
My folks aren't home.

When my mommy does come home,
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll get,
One whipping tonight.

I just heard a car,
My daddy is back,
From Charlie's bar.

I hear him curse,
My name is called,
I press myself,
Against the wall.

I try to hide,
From his evil eyes,
I'm so afraid now,
I'm starting to cry.

He finds me weeping,
Calls me ugly words,
He says its my fault,
He suffers at work.

He slaps and hits me,
And yells at me more,
I finally get free,
And run for the door.

He 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 dad continues,
With more bad words spoken.

'I'm sorry!', I scream,
But it's now much too late,
His face has been twisted,
Into an unimaginable shape.

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 Chris,
I am three,
Tonight my daddy,
Murdered me................."

Unknown Author

I know that this is hard to read and it is the truth of abuse. Even if you survive the physical abuse, there are the scars of emotional abuse to deal with.
Patricia