I Was 3 Poem by Sarah Stetler

My name is Kelly, I just turned 3. The problem is that I know more about pain than any other 3 year old should, when I get in trouble there is always a lesson to be learned even when I learn it while being locked in the closet.
My punishment after these lessons are usually being burnt & beaten' the others I can't even explain or say. The car pulled in, my daddy's back from the bar, He stomps in angry, yelling about how Vince ripped him off & how Charlie's gay & how the house is a mess. I ran in fear as he gave me that look, I know I need to go to my room. As I lean against the door I hear him come up the stairs. As it rains I feel more pain than ever before, I cry out. My name is Kelly, I was just 3 the day my father murdered me.