Misty

While I've never been a victim of child abuse, my mother and uncles were. My grandmother was  bipolar, depressed, wracked with anxiety and had suicidal tendencies. And though they were never beaten senseless - although, maybe they were, and I was just never told - it breaks my heart to hear of any other abuse that my own mother went through. It fills with anger, and believe me, I have plenty of that.

Child abuse of any sort is a perverted, repulsive behaviour, and those who abuse children should be thrown in prison. Children, especially infants, are so helpless and innocent. They do not deserve to be treated like dirt just because they were born.

So here is a poem, although not written as well as "I Went to a Party, Mum" is still a heartbreaking poem that gets the blood pumping for justice. The narrator, Misty, is a young child that represents all abused and neglected children. So through Misty and this poem, we are able to remember and think about the children who have perished by their parents/guardians own hands.

"Misty"

"My name is Misty,
I am but three."

My name is Misty

I am but 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 speak at all

I can't do a wrong

Or else I'm locked up

All day long.

When I awake

I'm all alone

The house is dark

My folks aren't home.

When my mommy does come

I'll try and be nice,

So maybe I'll get just

One whipping tonight.

Don't 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,

I'm so afraid now

I'm 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.

He's 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.

"I'm sorry!" I scream,

But its much 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 there motionless

Sprawled on the floor.

My name is Misty

And I am but three,

Tonight my daddy

Murdered me.