I tried to write a poem

to come and read to you.

About what had happened

about what is so true.

I know your daddy beat you

but you never told

About the pain and suffering

from him who was so cold.

He knew it was wrong

but told himself it was right

And you stayed strong

until this dark, cold night.

The night that they all threw you

in the back seat of his truck

And stood back to watch

him not give a fuck.

About what he was doing

about what he had done

To the child that lay before him

the boy who hadn’t won.

He stopped hitting

when the boy stopped screaming

And stepped back to see

that the boy was not breathing.

No words were said

no sounds were heard

That was it for the boy

no time for a last word.

This is what happened

to the boy we knew

This poem is not fake

it’s real, it’s true.

So to all the people who think

hitting is right

Think once again

about this boy’s life long fight.