This Corner In the Attic

My name is Heather,
I am twelve years old.
I sleep each night,
In a room so cold.

You call it the attic,
I call call it Hell.
What happens each night,
I will never tell.

He creeps into my room,
Not very quiet at all.
He likes when I cry out,
He loves to hear me bawl.

I never get a kiss,
All I ever receive is pain.
He hits me hard,
All my crying is in vein.

I cannot tell,
Because he is my father.
If he left,
No one would bother.

I'd be shipped off,
To no place like home.
Because even with the pain,
I know I'm not alone.

I have many friends,
Who sort of know.
But I don't tell them the extent,
Of my pain at home.

I won't tell a soul,
No I'll never tell.
Anyone,
Of this place I call Hell.