Have I done something wrong? br Was I bad? br What have I done to make you so mad, to make you so hurtful, to hit me, to hurt me, to break my heart and my bones? br I’ll be good, I promise, don't hit me with the belt again, the buckle hurts and it leaves bruises. br I can't feel my heart anymore. br I’m hungry. br I’m tired. br I’m hurt. br I am a child whose mother and father have no shame they hit me with all their anger and the bruises the leave me they hid with bulky clothing. Bloody legs. br Bloody nose. br Bloody face. br They make me say I hurt my self while playing out side. br These lies I spew to everyone make my heart hurt the most. br My teachers all know, but they don't say a thing, and if I had friends they might tell on mommy and daddy. br Throwing a whiskey bottle, or a phonebook, or a punch. br Happy birthday. br Three broken teeth six stitches. br Merry Christmas. br Internal bleeding and a hospital stay. br Happy Tuesday. br I look into their eyes blue oceans of rage and green jealousy filled with anguish for all the stress they caused. br I grow up with a harsh way of looking at things. br I grow up with no rules and I block out no hate. br I look into their empty eyes full of death. I kill because I thought it was best. br It’s best that they get killed, for my sake and theirs. br The police, the shrinks, the news and the DFS people... the bad guys. Fear grips like an icicle hand, stabs like a blade... these people are the enemy, and they'll take me away. br It’s my home I want to stay. br It’s my life that they tired to throw away. br It’s my heart that they broke. br It’s my love that they pushed away. br Let me be. br Let my fragile body heal. br It’s the least you can do because now that this has happened I won’t be able to feel.