What The Hell Did They Do To You
- Reads 188
- Votes 3
- Parts 6
Tagssarahnicole1dxx
This story is about how child abuse is wrong and it needs to be taking care of!!!!!!! No one deserves to be beat!!!!!!!!! Help prevent child abuse by either going and getting help or call the cops....If your the one beating your child just know that your going to live with that for the rest of your life and so are they and when they grow up they are probably going to think "Oh so it is ok if I beat my kids because my parents did." Everyone that beats their kids it because of you why kids don't say anything.
So please help me prevent child abuse
I don't get why do so many kids have to get beat when they did nothing wrong.All of these kids that get beat for nothing
is just wrong. I just don't why so many kids parents can't be happy with the kids they got. When I hear about child
abuse it just makes me think..."What did those kids do that their parents have to beat them to death or close to death?"
and "Why do parents have to do that to their own kid(s) it's so disgusting. "If I ever see a parent abusing their child then
I wouldn't know what to say besides..."Why do you do that to your kid(s) what did the ever do to you?" OR if i see anyone
with bruises from their parents I am going to get that kid help so they dont have to live with it for the rest of their lives.
I always hear about little kids dying from child abuse and I can't take it anymore. I just wish that all those kids didn't
have to deal with it and that's because every child that has to live with it....I just wish I could take those kids and put
them in a good home where I know they won't get hurt by their parents. I hope that parents know that they are lucky to
have the kids they have because if it wasn't for God then they wouldn't even have the kid or kids they have. If their is a
parent out there abusing their child just know that if you make that little, poor, innocent child die just know that you did
it and that will always stick with you for the rest of you life
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.
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