A short poem of Harry's abuse. I know the poem isn't mine but I have changed it to make it my own.
My name is Harry.
I am 3.
My eyes are swollenI cannot see,I must be stupidI must be bad,What else could have madeMy Uncle so mad?I wish I were betterI wish I weren't ugly,Then maybe AuntyWould still want to hug me.I can't do a wrongI cant speak at allOr else I am locked upAll day I'm awake I'm all aloneThe house is darkMy relatives aren't homeWhen my Aunty does come homeI'll try and be nice,So maybe I'll just getOne or two whippings tonight.I just heard a carMy Uncle is backFrom Charlie's bar.I hear him curseMy name is calledI press myselfAgainst the wallI try to hideFrom his evil eyesI'm so afraid nowI'm starting to cryHe finds me weepingCalls me ugly words,He says it's my faultHe suffers at slaps and hits meAnd yells at me more,I finally get freeAnd run to the doorHe's already locked itAnd I start to bawl,He picks me up and throws meAgainst the hard wallI fall to the floorWith my bones nearly broken,And my Uncle continuesWith more bad words spoken,"I'm sorry!", I screamBut now it's much too lateHis face has been twistedInto an unimaginable shapeThe hurt and the painAgain and againOh please God, have mercy!Oh please let it end!It burns so bad and hurts even worse
And he finally stopsAnd heads for the doorWhile I lay there motionlessSprawled on the floorI hear someone curse then it all goes black
When I woke up I knew I wouldn't be able to go back.
My name is HarryI am three,Tonight my UncleMurdered me.
If you read this and feel no remorse for kids that go through this all day and all night then you must have a heart of stone.