My name is Misty, I am but three
My eye is swollen, I cannot see.
I must be bad- that lesson I've learned,
for I am punished by a cigarette burn.
I must do right, I can't do wrong,
or else I'm locked up all alone.
The house is dark, my folks aren’t home.
Deep down inside, I feel so sad,
for I am hated by my mom and dad.
I am an accident, that's the word,
for time and time again that phrase I've heard.
Be quite now!!!!!!!! I hear a car!!!!!
My dad is home from the neighborhood bar!!!!!!
I hear him curse......my name he calls.
I squeeze myself against the walls.
Oh, please LORD, it's too late,
his face is twisted into hate.
OH GOD just let it end.............................
My name is Misty, I was but three,
last night my father murdered me.
Submitted by Reana Young, written by her father.
not receive help in time...If you see a child in need
STOP AND HELP before it is too late.
