Hurt Me Some More...

He says he loved me,
But I’m not quite sure.
That daddy of mine,
Made my cry when I was bad.
He beat me,
With sticks,
That I had to hand pick.
He took me into the back room,
So no one would hear me scream,
But tried to make up for it,
When I was good.
With strawberry milk,
And donuts on Sundays.
"Okay daddy lets go" I always said
Waking him up at 9 to go.
But when we got back,
He saw that,
I spilled some milk,
On my new clean white shirt.
So he,
He hurt me.
He touched me.
In inappropriate places.
"Daddy stop" I would say.
"Shut up and lay down" was the only reply.
He was twisted.
Sick.
And a little but nuts.
Making me watch him,
Behind the clear shower curtain.
One day I was taken away.
Cause mommy woke up,
Saw him injecting her,
With medicine to make her sleep,
Around the clock.
She took me away.
"No!!" daddy I wanna be with you,
"It’s okay princess I’ll see you again,
Someway or somehow.
I have to go away for a bit,
Cause mommy woke up,
And saw how I was playing,
A game she didn’t like.
But she'll come around,
When I told her it was only,
Because of her disease,
She believed me,
But then saw us playing,
That one game I like."
How could a little girl deserve this?
Brutality.
Abuse.
Molestation.
I asked myself years later,
Was it my fault?
Was I so bad?
To deserve all of that....
Maybe I was.
But no,
I’ve talked,
Came out with my story,
To my best friend.
Though I can’t relate to her,
Or to anyone else,
I know he was wrong now,
To do that to a little girl,
Me.
For two years,
Starting when I when I was six.