I sit in my room alone,
Crying, crying, crying.
The door flies open quickly.
Here comes my father,
Angry, mad, almost careless.
I hide in the closet,
Shivering, crying, scared.
I hear things hit walls.
My stereo,
My beaded curtains,
My pictures,
Everything, there is goes.
He's yelling my name.
The closet door swings open and I'm being pulled,
Pulled by my arm and thrown against a wall.
I was wrong,
It wasn't dad,
It was my mom's boyfriend.
He hit me.
Hard, very hard!
I felt the pain jab me.
It was like stabbing your face with a knife,
A knife you never had in your hand.
So it seemed.
He hit me, again.
Swung at me once more, missed.
I tried to get away.
I ran to the door,
Grabbing my little sister by the arm.
I run, run, run,
Crying, crying, and crying.
Who was to see someone for help?
Who was going to make him stop?
There were no words to describe,
To describe the fear in my sister and I.
I keep these memories locked up,
Maybe forever, forever and ever.
I know you would to if you experienced what I have.