Poor Becky

My name is Becky 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 mummy 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 parents aren't home.
When my mummy does come I'll try and be nice,
so maybe I'll get just get one whipping tonight.
Don't make a sound! I just heard a car.
My daddy is back from Falselie'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!
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 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,
my daddy continues with more bad words spoken.
"I'm sorry!" I scream but its now much too late,
his face has been twisted into unimaginable hate.
The hurt and the pain again and again.
Oh please, 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 Becky and I am but three,
tonight my daddy has murdered me.
There are thousands of kids out there just like Becky. Please pass this poem on because as crazy as it might sound, it might just indirectly change a life. Hey, you NEVER know. Please put this on your site.