About This Hell

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