DON’T WANT TO PLAY THIS GAME (My name is Bobby)
Dedicated to little ones living with adult fears
Photos by D. Sharon Pruitt
My name is Bobby;
Although you never hear me speak,
I’ve lots to say.
Even though you never see me smile,
Deep inside I’m still your child.
Although you don’t know my name,
I breathe in and out just the same.
This game you play, I don’t know the rules,
I go to school, and I try to be,
The child you dream.
One foot forward and two steps back,
you did it wrong now take that slap.
Get off the floor you silly fool;
Go cry your tears into Winnie the Pooh.
You have no choice, you are my child, No one cares if you live or die. Don’t say a word, Don’t tell a soul. You must be so good, They’ll think you’re made of gold.
Did you play this with your dad? You were his only son. Why are you so mad? Why do you make me run? I lie beneath my bed; the pillow no longer drowns the dread.
What made you so mad? You only hit me once yet I feel so sad. I’m in my room upon my knees, hoping that you will see, the hurting child inside of me. I’m praying that lightening will strike; will I die before the morning light?
I don’t want to play this game, I don’t know the rules, I don’t want to play your stupid game no more. Take away the board, smash it on the floor, Daddy won’t you let me know the way, to play this game you play, I’ll learn the rules someday,
I promise if you let me run away…
(Whispered)
I won’t say a word,
I won’t tell a soul,
I will be so good;
you’ll think I’m made of gold.
(Whispered lower) …
I won’t say a word …
I won’t tell a soul …
I will be so good,
You’ll think I’m made of gold …
SO SAD
I wanted to share this poem with everyone, because I feel it is important for everyone to know that it is ok to get involved. The more people that get involved the more we can prevent abuse. I feel the best way to show someone that you care is to help them even if you are not directly involved.
She was such a pretty child, as pretty as could be.
The blondest hair and bluest eyes, this little girl of three.
She lived next door and I would often see her play outside.
Putting all her dollies in a wagon for a ride.
I often thought how beautiful she would be when she’s grown.
She was just the cutest thing as she played there alone.
I only knew her parents from a passing wave or “hi.”
They did not want to socialize each time that I would try.
I sometimes heard them arguing when I was in my yard.
I know the problems people have can sometimes make life hard.
I thought they were just loners because they kept to them self.
They might think I am nosy if I try to offer help.
They never bother anyone, the other neighbors say.
And the little girl can only go out back to play.
You only see them come and go, they never stay outside.
You wonder when they act like that, have they something to hide?
One day I heard them arguing, much louder than before.
As I looked out, the little girl was standing by her door.
Her little face was bruised and tears were running down her cheek.
I wanted to go over there, but I was scared and meek.
Finally when the screaming stopped, and everything was calm
I saw the little girl was being held close to her mom.
Her mother rocked her back and forth, and she was crying too.
Just standing in the back yard, there was nothing I could do.
Nothing I could ever do, would be of any use.
This mother and this little girl were suffering abuse.
She had better call someone and get this thing resolved.
But, it is not my business and I cannot get involved.
As I spoke with neighbors, about what went on next door
They all agreed, that it was sad, it’s something we abhor.
It’s something we must overlook, we cannot interfere.
But, now we sing a different tune, as we are gathered here.
The neighborhood feels guilty,
for we looked the other way.
Are we all responsible for being here today?
We feel the anger and the shame, because we all stood by
Knowing now we could have helped, but didn’t even try.
And now this little three year old, so beautiful to me
Surrounded by her dollies, just the way she loved to be
Is in a little casket, with her body limp and frail.
Her mom is in intensive care, her dad is now in jail.
The funeral home is quiet, because we all realize
The reason you must get involved is right before our eyes.
Abuse in any form is something we must all resent.
And fight with every tool we have to save our innocent.
to be continued.......
