Daddy It Hurts

This is from my Scottish brother, Stuart, over in Scotland. It's things like this, that I know go on in too many children's lives, that make me:

1. want to be there to protect them. a "man" isn't someone who beats a child. anyone who wants to should be made to have to be able to get through a real man first, someone who can either talk some sense into them or knock it into them if necessary. man is a rational being and an animal. i'll be whatever it takes to protect a child.

2. love every child possible, fill their heads with all the good they already are and all the greatness they are in the process of becoming. we are to protect them from themselves, from their own learned self-doubt. Some of the best lines that have ever spoken to me from inside are;

"When we are young
and covered in love

We completely believe
we are gifts from above."
- Adam Stuart

Body:

My name is Chris
I am three,

My eyes are swollen
I cannot see,

I must be stupid
I must be bad,

What else could have made
My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better
I wish I weren't ugly,

Then maybe my mommy
Would still want to hug me.

I cant do a wrong
I cant speak at all

Or else im locked up
All day long.

When im awake im all alone
The house is dark

My folks arent home

When my mommy does come home
I'll try and be nice,

So maybe ill just get
One whipping tonight.

I just heard a car
My daddy is back

From Chariles bar
I hear him curse

My name is called
I press myself

Against the wall
I try to hide

From his evil eyes
Im so afraid now

I'm starting to cry
He finds me weeping

Calls me ugly words,
He says its my fault

He suffers at work
He slaps and hits me

And yells at me more,
I finally get free

And run to the door
Hes already locked it

And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me

Against the hard wall
I fall to the floor

With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues

With more bad words spoken,
"Im sorry!", I scream

But its now much to late
His face has been twisted

Into a unimaginable shape
The hurt and the pain

Again and again
O please God, have mercy!

O please let it end!
And he finally stops

And heads for the door
While I lay there motionless

Sprawled on the floor
My name is Chris

I am three,
Tonight my daddy

Murdered me