The Self-Life and New Suicide

I just turned ten.
How much longer must I wait?
Why don't they help me, don't they know
that I live in a secret hell that only my father relives
one, two, five, seven, nine, or eleven times a day.
They would last for hours, imagine being raped on weekends
eleven times a day for three hours!

I am sick of it, I went to schools, the little friends I had,
cops that didn't believe me, and to the diary that listens to
me as I tell my pain in detail, hopefully Sam will tell my story.

What am I doing? Why am I bleeding?
What did I just do to myself.
Thinking of Sam just saved me, she knows, yet she is only seven,
nobody will believe her.
I rush to the bathroom and get a rag
I just slit my wrists!
I am only ten, I have a life to live, but I won’t live until
he is gone. So I must wait, and suffer, till Sam is old enough to understand.

I go to bed, and pull the covers over my frail body.
I wish, I hope, I even pray to God Himself to keep father away for tonight.

NOOOOOOO!!! He's home, walking down the hall, I hear many voices, I hear a woman. Thank God, thank you lord.
Is this the end of it, will he still rape me,
one, two, five, seven, nine, eleven times a day.
I pray not, after all I am ten, and a pure girl, even though my father rapes me every night of the week and weekends.
I go to sleep and dream a wonderful dream
I am flying to heaven on the wings of my hope.
Maybe God has a plan for me, yes, he does, I just have to wait.