| The Hurt Must Stop Now! |
| The Purple Ribbon Campaign to end Domestic Violence: Why Purple? Bruises women have sustained at the hands of their abusers. It is time to remind our country of the hidden secrets many women and children face daily, in they're nice warm pretty homes! Hidden behind closed doors. In a place they thought at one time would serve as comfort and love. These Women Could be: Your Best Friend Your Mom Your Daughter A Co-Worker A sweet, quiet neighbor YOU There are many faces in domestic violence. There is no stereo type situation Strong Powerful Women, Stay at Home Wives and Mothers, The President of the PTA, The clerk in the grocery store. A CEO in charge of a corporation. The Woman Being Beat Can Be ANYONE! The only trait this woman will have in common with all the others is, she know's all to well, how to hide the abuse from others. She carries her scar's inside, and hides the bruises from your eyes. She needs to know, and we all must join hands to show her SHE DOES NOT HAVE TO WALK ALONE ANYMORE! So often, time and time again, a woman being abused hides the abuse. She is embarrassed. She has very little self value. It has been stolen from her, by her abuser. She usually demonstrates low self esteem. She feel's like a failure. She walks alone, afraid to let anyone in. She feels no one will understand. She feels worse yet, you will judge her. I beg you my fellow sisters, to stand for this woman. To take her hand, gently. To be there to listen, without judging. She needs a true friend. She needs a shoulder. She needs you. Her life may depend on you. Become acquainted with Domestic Violence. Become more aware. Spread the word. Offer safety. GET INVOLVED You may start now, by right clicking on this graphic below and saving it to your hard drive. Then, add it to your web pages. Spread the word. Involve others. We can all Make A Difference, one heart at a time! |
| Behind Closed Doors Behind closed doors you never know The "private" lives that friends don't show It happens in the best of places And shows up first on children's faces First, the look of their sad eyes Then their voice complete with sighs They don't talk much nor do they play You ask them why, but they won't say Their bear the weight of parents' sin Of daily abuse and anger turned in They have that look that says, Dont Touch I've had enough, in fact too much They fight with all to show their power But while at home they sit and cower To wait upon their nightly whip Sometimes from hands, sometimes from lips It matters not where comes the pain From stinging slaps or words that shame 'Cause as they grow in size and age Their minds still fill with thoughts of rage And when they wed and parents are They still bear wounds and have deep scars That bind them in so many ways To their past lives which they replay And on and on the cycle goes Unless it stops and we can show That "private" lives in "private" places Ruin future lives in future spaces So be not silent, don't turn in fear Reach for their hand, give them your ear With gifts of love, touch their young heart And the cycle of hate, you'll surely part author unknown |
| Got Flowers Today I got flowers today It wasn’t my birthday or any other special day. Last night we had a fight and he hit me, But I know he is sorry Cause I got flowers today I got flowers today It wasn’t our anniversary or any other special day. Last night he threw me against the wall and started to choke me, But I know he’s sorry, Cause I got flowers today I got flowers today It wasn’t Mothers day or any other special day I was so swollen and bruised I was ashamed to answer the door But I know he’s sorry, Cause I got flowers today If I leave him, where will I go? What about money? what about my kids? It’s getting worse every time but I’m afraid to leave But I know he’s sorry Cause I got flowers today I got flowers today My family and friends filed by to see me Asking why I never left him, If I only had the strength and courage to, but I didn’t So I got Flowers today Author Unknown |
| The Lullaby of Domestic Violence I know its time for bed, when I hear you start to fight, but I do not go to sleep for I lie awake at night. I often hear things breaking, I hear screaming and hollering too. I often wonder as I lie there, if I'm loved by either of you. I never get tucked in, no bed time stories, nor any kisses good night. I wish to be, so far from here, because I know this isn't right. Today was my birthday, I wished that wish, as I blew the candles out in silence, but tonight I know, my wish didn't come true, as I listen to the lullaby of domestic violence. |
| The Evil Cousin i like my cousins well most of them i think i can say most are my friends but there is one whom i cannot stand he is a jerk he thinks he's a man i will never forgive him for what he did i couldn't prevent it i was only a kid i will never forget what he did to me why didn't he just let me be? ~written by a 14 year old sexual abuse victim |
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| THE LITTLE GIRL By: John Michael Montgomery Her parents never took the young girl to church... Never spoke of His name... Never read her his word... Two non-believers walking lost in this world... Took their baby with them, what a sad little girl... Her daddy drank all day and mommy did drugs... Never wanted to play or give kisses and hugs... She'd watch the tv and sit there on the couch... While her mom fell asleep and her daddy went out... And the drinking and the fighting... Just got worse every night... Behind their couch she'd be hiding... Oh what a sad little life... And like it always does, the bad just got worse... With every slap and every curse... Until her daddy in a drunk rage one night... Used a gun on her mom and then took his life... And some people from the city took the girl far away... To a new mom and a new dad, kisses and hugs everyday... Her first day of Sunday School... Her teacher walked in... And a small little girl starred at a picture of Him... She said I know that man up there on that cross... I don’t know His name but I know he got off... Cause he was there in my old house... And held me close to his side... As I hid there behind our couch... The night that my parents died. |
| My Name is Misty My name is Misty, I am but three My eyes are swollen, I cannot see. I must not be loved for I am punished by cigarette burns. I must do right, I can't do wrong, Or else I am locked up all week long. When I awake, I'm alone. The house is dark, my folks are gone. Deep down inside I feel bad For Mom and Dad. I'm really just an expensive joke. No more, no less....... then speed or coke. Be quiet now! I hear a car. My dad is back from Charlie's Bar. I hear him curse, my name he calls. I squeeze myself against the wall. On my bed, it's too late. His face is twisted into hate. I feel the pain again and again. Oh, Dear God! Please let it end. My name is Misty. I am but three. Last night my father murdered me...... ~ Written by Vesessa Gibbs ... In the 8th Grade! |
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| Inside Me Smiling as I look down in shame, my heart is filled with so much pain but you cannot see it for my mask cover the true me afraid to reveal secrets of my past. hidden within my soul no scars or bruises you cannot see for the hurt comes from inside of me. I cannot share with you the hurt you see cause its a secret that i must hold in silence a secret that cannot be brought into light for if i do I would surly die. Do not show who I really am Do Not feel what i really feel hide it underneeth the flesh were it is invisible nobody can see feel your pain for it is silent a silent killer death only seems like an option but then more pain more hurt more suffering that you cannot see for the pain is inside of me by Donna Zerber |
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| Dear Mr. Jesus By Richard Klender Dear Mr. Jesus, I just had to write to you Something really scared me, when I saw it on the news A story 'bout a little girl beaten black and blue Jesus, thought I'd take this right to you Dear Mr. Jesus, I don't understand Why they took her mom and dad away I know that they don't mean to hit with wild and angry hands Tell them just how big they are I pray Please don't let them hurt your children We need love and shelter from the storm Please don't let them hurt your children Won't you keep us safe and warm Dear Mr. Jesus, they say that she may die Oh I hope the doctors stop the pain I know that you could save her and take her up to the sky So she would never have to hurt again Please don't let them hurt your children.. Dear Mr. Jesus, please tell me what to do And please don't tell my daddy But my mommy hits me, too. Please don't let them hurt your children |
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