My Name Is Sarah...A message about child abuse

  1. my name is sarah i am but 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 can't speak at all i can't do a wrong
    or else i'm locked up all the day long.
    when i awake i'm all alone
    the house is dark my folks aren't home
    when my mommy does come i'll try and be nice,
    so maybe i'll get just one whipping tonight.
    don't make a sound! i just heard a car
    my daddy is back from charlie's bar.
    i hear him curse my name he calls
    i press myself against the wall
    i try and hide from his evil eyes
    i'm so afraid now i'm starting to cry
    he finds me weeping, he shouts ugly words,
    he says its my fault that he suffers at work.
    he slaps me and hits me and yells at me more,
    i finally get free and i run for the door.
    he's 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.
    "i'm sorry!", i scream but its now much too late
    his face has been twisted into unimaginable hate
    the hurt and the pain again and again
    oh please god, have mercy! oh 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 sarah and i am but three,
    tonight my daddy murdered me.

    there are thousands of kids out there just like sarah. and you can help.
    it sickens me to my soul, and if you just read this and have been affected by it too, will you do something about it?

    all i am asking you to do, is take some time to send this on and acknowledge that this stuff does happen, and that people like her dad do live in our society,and i pray for child abuse to wither out and die, but also pray for the safety of our youth.

    so please pass this poem on because as crazy as it might sound, it might just indirectly change a life. hey, you never know.please forward if you are*~*~*against child abuse *~*~*

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  2. 19 Comments

  3. by   Hellllllo Nurse
    Oh God, that was depressing as hell.
  4. by   LPN4Life
    Horrible
  5. by   scrubs70


    Thankyou for sharing that Fran, an awesome poem, I have already emailed on to all I know.
  6. by   LesJenRN
    I think I'll go give my 3 year old a hug....
  7. by   smk1
    i have a 3 yr old and i about burst into tears here! its 1:00 am and i was just about to quit studying and go to bed but i am getting my punkin up to cuddle with hubby and me in our bed for awhile.
  8. by   mandykatrn
    OMG - OMG - OMG!!! I couldn't get through the entire poem, it's just too sad & tragic. Makes me both :angryfire and at the same time. I have a 3 year old. I think I'll go hold him for dear life right now.

  9. by   Energizer Bunny
    I passed it on to everyone in my addy book...thanks Fran. My almost three year old is one of the three most precious things in my life and all i could think of is her while reading this.
  10. by   FranEMTnurse
    Thank you all for your remarks. How sad it is that in our world, and not only third world countries, but right here in the good old USA, that this goes on in some child's life. The story reminded me of one that was highly publicized in the newspapers in New York State. The parents were arrested for murder and other crimes they had done with their little girl. The sad part of the whole thing was she was adopted. The mother however, was allowed to tell her side of the story, and was exonerated, because she herself was a victim also, and was forced into the activity by her husband, who was a prominent New York City lawyer.

    This sort of thing just about tears the heart out of me, because I was a little Sarah too; only God spared me from death so I could tell the inside story. Mine was a bit different in that my mother was the beater, but my father was the sexual abuser.

    The Molded Lump of Clay is currently being used as a teaching tool at our local women's shelter, and has been sent to many people all over the US.
    The individual who sent the message to me thought of me, because she read the book. She lives in Mississippi, and was not a victim of abuse herself.
    Last edit by FranEMTnurse on Apr 26, '04
  11. by   nursemichelle
    Thank you for sharing that. I work in a program that deals with abused/neglected children at a Children's Justice Center, I will forward this to all the case managers today.
  12. by   FranEMTnurse
    Quote from nursemichelle
    Thank you for sharing that. I work in a program that deals with abused/neglected children at a Children's Justice Center, I will forward this to all the case managers today.
    Thank you Michelle.
  13. by   ?burntout
  14. by   KibbsRNstudent
    Quote from frances lemay
    my name is sarah i am but 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 can't speak at all i can't do a wrong
    or else i'm locked up all the day long.
    when i awake i'm all alone
    the house is dark my folks aren't home
    when my mommy does come i'll try and be nice,
    so maybe i'll get just one whipping tonight.
    don't make a sound! i just heard a car
    my daddy is back from charlie's bar.
    i hear him curse my name he calls
    i press myself against the wall
    i try and hide from his evil eyes
    i'm so afraid now i'm starting to cry
    he finds me weeping, he shouts ugly words,
    he says its my fault that he suffers at work.
    he slaps me and hits me and yells at me more,
    i finally get free and i run for the door.
    he's 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.
    "i'm sorry!", i scream but its now much too late
    his face has been twisted into unimaginable hate
    the hurt and the pain again and again
    oh please god, have mercy! oh 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 sarah and i am but three,
    tonight my daddy murdered me.

    there are thousands of kids out there just like sarah. and you can help.
    it sickens me to my soul, and if you just read this and have been affected by it too, will you do something about it?

    all i am asking you to do, is take some time to send this on and acknowledge that this stuff does happen, and that people like her dad do live in our society,and i pray for child abuse to wither out and die, but also pray for the safety of our youth.

    so please pass this poem on because as crazy as it might sound, it might just indirectly change a life. hey, you never know.please forward if you are*~*~*against child abuse *~*~*

    i was that child til i was about 17. it was worse too as i got older as my moms 3rd husband helped out with the abuse and also started to molest my sister and i from about age 12 on. i finally left home adn was in a psych hospital because i was a mess as you might know. i was lucky to not have died but all my suicide attemps proved taht sometimes all an abused child wants to di is die. the docs told me several times that i should ahve died and they did not have an explanation as to why i survived but i can tell you that my god saved my life and when i was 18 god saved me once and for all.

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