Daddy It Hurts

This was sent to me by Travis Conner, a friend of mine who preaches for the Antioch Church of Christ in Snead Alabama.  It was sent with the instructions to “pass it on”.  I do not know the author of this poem.  I can only say that I appreciate their effort. I am passing this poem along because of it’s importance and I encourage you to do the same.  Jesus said in Matthew, “But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.  May God have mercy on us all….

 

 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 just get,
One whipping tonight.

I just heard a car,
My daddy is back,

after all his drinking
At 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 to 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 it’s now much to late,
His face has been twisted,
Into a unimaginable shape.

The hurt and the pain,
Again and again,
O please God, have mercy!
O 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 Chris,
I am three,
Tonight my daddy,
Murdered me.

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One Response to Daddy It Hurts

  1. Painful Memories says:

    This post has hit home very hard and is very sad and painful to read. I and so many adult children have walked in the shoes of the little child and grown up with pains so deep that no human can ever really reach to heal. No my parents never went as far as to kill a child, but there were so many times I really prayed that they would have just ended things for me. There were many times where I felt that physically I was one step out of the grave because of the beatings I received at my dads hands for doing nothing more then salting my food at the dinner table when he wanted to salt his. On another angle concerning pain this post brought are the memories that the actions and attitudes of my parents also hurt and killed so much in the children of their charge. Only my second eldest brother is strong in the church like my parents were. Of the rest of the seven children, none believe in the god of our youth as adults. Where I once turned to king alcohol and street drugs, one of my siblings has turned to medical drugs, one to street drugs, one to alcohol, one to their work, and one is dead. Only two give a slight effort to church and that is only when around the parents. So as this post goes, the dad of my youth killed God and church in the hearts of most of the six children placed into his care by the Heavenly Father.

    I often ask myself “WHY?” Why am I setting in the building of a church of Christ today? Why am I making effort to bond with members of the church of Christ today? Why did I return here when king alcohol failed me in life? I do not have the answers to these questions of mine even though I consider them often.

    One thing I do know today is that I do not know the god of my parents. The God I know today is love not hate. The God I know today is help not hurt. The God I know today forgives my errors and mistakes and forgets them as if they never happened in the first place.

    I will take the God i know today over the God of my youth any time and any place.

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