I was born, then I cried.
Before you new it I was Five.
In between was pain and lies,
lost my Dad and thought I died.
Can't remember most of this,
mostly 'cause I got hit.
Beatings frequent,
this I know, was my Step-Dad,
he was bad.
Right before, when I was Four.
I stopped talking,
this was true, acted out and hated too.
Don't remember Six and Seven.
I woke-up and was Eleven.
Years of pain, I don't know,
couldn't tell you, I was slow.
My brother left, he seemed to be,
Lots of trouble for me to see.
When I was Eight, my body ached,
my step-father beat us three,
Tammy, Eddie and there's me.
(This went on everyday,
my parents worried we might tell,
everyone about this Hell.)
Karen Placek
5/30/2009