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  • Writer's pictureThe Misfit Amish LLC

Amish Child’s Prayer

By: Carrie Anne

Written with input from Mary Byler & Emanuel Shetler

There are things happening before you if you would open your eyes, things you would hate and things I despise,

Your eyes are diverted, please see when I look, the people that hurt me go by the book,

The book is the bible, the people are saved, but that doesn’t stop them from having their way.

I don’t have a phone, that I can just use, I am only a kid and I’m being abused.

I’m not educated, and I wasn’t taught parts, Forgive and Forget is what beats in my heart.

I’m beat and I’m broken, bruised and confused; I often scream no and always refuse, but that doesn’t matter, they’re always much stronger, and I don’t think I can hold out much longer.

I heard there is joy & smiles to be had, I’ve done nothing wrong, why do I feel so bad?

Who do I tell, where do I go? What do I reap and What do I sow?

The outfit is cute, at least in your eyes but the clothes are distractions, they are just a disguise.

The bishop agrees with all the molesters, the kids are pink sheets and the parent’s investors.

We’re begging for solace, please help us soon, I’m raped in the morning and the afternoon.

My mom turns her head as if she can’t see, the pain and abuse that has befallen me.

I’ve never been hugged or treated with kindness, just heads turned away & eyes filled with blindness.

So next time you see me, look in my eyes, please hear my screams, please hear my cries.

I want to report it, believe me I’ve tried, but I’m greeted with anger, and they all say I lied.

The police do not help, they rarely come near, I’m staring in the headlights, just like a deer

My pillow is wet for the tears that I’ve shed, there has to be more than the shame in this bed.

The windows are locked, the door is shut tight, they break down the doors and limit my fight.

I have no more strength to fight all the abusers, they are the villains, but I am the loser.

The brainwashing done to our poor little brains is emotional torment and physical pain.

I’m begging you please, I’m pleading with angst, If you would or could just help me you deserve all the thanks.

Intimidation is real with the hats and the beards, but for my sake I’m begging please don’t be scared

For I’m not the only child needing be saved, you think we are kids, but we’re really enslaved.

While you are in school and having your fun, I’m up at 5 to get the chores done.

Then off to a job all day I must go, I don’t have a choice, or a whistle to blow.

I don’t get to gripe or vent my unrest, I have no opinion, I’m forced to be blessed.

The job is picked for me, my life is planned out, I am only a hostage until I’m found out.

I can’t tell you how many graves that are unmarked, the kids that are lost in the night of the dark.

We look at you happy, wishing we’d know, the places you’ve been and where we could go.

For all that we see is what has been placed, on the sweat of our brow and put in our face.

I eat, breathe, live and do as I’m told, my heart wants to stop but my legs want to go.

I don’t understand why they choose to ignore, the pain in my face and my body that’s sore.

I can’t go much longer, should I take my own life, or live being shunned or continue with strife?

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