Child Abuse through a little boy’s eyes, My name is Bobby poem

My Name Is Bobby is a poem that I wrote many years ago to help me express how I felt a child must feel in the midst of child abuse.  My name is Bobby is my attempt to show abuse from a child’s point of view. I have received so many emails about this poem and many requests to use this poem in plays and other ways. I am honored to be asked to use the poem and so that readers are never waiting for a response I am posting permission below for anyone to use the poem, please read below for more details.

While my goal here is to encourage others to succeed, there is a part of me that will always find the need to share poetry and other writing about domestic violence, the time for change is here, if you run a non-profit or bring awareness to abuse, feel free to use this poem in the fight to let children be children.

The poem is dedicated to little ones living with adult fears, written/published November 11, 2006

My Name is Bobby
child abuse through a little boys eyes
by Rebecca J. Burns

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 on my knees, hoping that you will see, the hurting child inside of me.
I’m praying that lightning 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.

PERMISSION TO USE POEM: This poem and photo are all over the net now, please make sure to give kuddos to the author – Rebecca J. Burns and the photographer D. Sharon Pruitt. You may ONLY use the photo when posting the poem with it. You DO NOT have permission to use only the photo.

You DO NOT have to write and ask my permission to use the poem, you have it here. Again, you have permission to use this poem as is for plays, newsletters, blogs and such as long as you give credit to me, the author. Also, try and leave a comment here letting me know where you are using it.

Free Poetry Book, “Heaven Must Have Needed Angels”

It is amazing what others have done with this one poem. If you have used this in a creative way please share it in a comment and link if possible, would love to share it with readers.

Below the poem was set to a very touching video to bring awareness.

I was touched when a reader sent me the youtube video below where they based the content off of the poem.