Hey You

February 15, 2009

“Child abuse casts a shadow the length of a lifetime.” -H.W.

She goes by “You.”
He’s heard as “Hey.”
“Hey You” echoes through
The walls stormy gray.

“You are useless, worthless, Stupid You.”
“You are ugly, clumsy; who needs You?”
“You are a disgrace; just look at You!”
“You, YOU, ruined my life and I HATE YOU!”

“Hey You, come wipe off your brainless mess!”
“You” stares at the slipshod spill of his.
“You” opens her mouth, tries to protest.
“Hey, do it now!” Her plea is dismissed.

“Hey” rages fiercer with extra fire;
“You” trembles from her head to her toe.
“Hey” rumbles like a mighty lion choir;
“You” crumbles from the strength of the blow.

“You” buries her face in her frail hands,
Lets out a moan, a cry in disguise.
“Hey, stop what you’re doing,” he demands.
“You” lifts her head, showing fearful eyes.

It’s sad to know that dolls suffer too,
With scars behind the linen and lace.
It’s hard to conceive what “You” goes through,
Beneath her tender, angelic face.

“Hey” roars louder from a harried man.
“You” is his child, a 6-year old girl.
“Hey You” thunders again and again.
“You” recoils in a crestfallen curl.

“You” closes her eyes and stands up still.
Dreams of a father float through her head.
“Hey You” resounds in a bitter shrill.
“You” forces a smile and prays instead.

Broken lips crack open a dire cry;
“You” is blemished in black and dark blue.
Arms outstretched, she looks him in the eye,
And utters “Hey Daddy, I love You.”

He goes by “You.”
She’s heard as “Hey.”
“Hey You” echoes through
The walls cloudy gray.