I am not sure where this originated, but it is sad to think of in how many homes this could become reality. 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 can't do a wrong. I can't speak at all, or else I'm locked up all day long. When I'm awake, I'm all alone. The house is dark, my folks aren't home. When my mommy does come home I'll try and be nice, So maybe I'll just get one whipping tonight. I just heard a car. My daddy is back from Charlie's bar. I heard him curse. My name is called. I press myself against the wall. I try to hide from his evil eyes. I'm so afraid now, I'm starting to cry. He finds me weeping, calls me ugly words. He says it's 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. 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 it's now much too late. His face has been twisted into an unimaginable shape. 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 lie there motionless, sprawled on the floor. My name is Chris, I am three. Tonight my daddy murdered me.