Not Worth It

April 21, 2010
By Tara Lavoy BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
Tara Lavoy BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

What did it feel like
To torture a little boy?
Those hot water burns you made on him,
The ones that nearly covered his body,
Burns poured from that steaming kettle,
Or was it a pot? It doesn’t really matter,
They ended his life.
Well, I suppose they didn’t
It was you stepping on him that did
With those boots of yours,
Or maybe they were tennis shoes.
Is it possible it was even your bare feet?

Did you feel his soft skin against yours?
Did you hear his screams of torture?
I bet he cried didn’t he?
I bet he squirmed with pain.
What was it like? Playing God
How did it feel? That life in your hands
So young and fragile

You can burn for eternity
For what you did
You, a pathetic excuse for a human
You’re not a human.
You can’t be a human.
A human would never do what you did.
Would never take another’s life,
Would never harm a child.

Because of this, all that you’ve done
You are not worthy of any title
You shall be a no-name
One of the many John Does
The one that people don’t know
And the one that people don’t want to
The unknown no one is willing to claim
No one would ever claim you

You, who are labeled as a man
A label given to you only because
There is no proper name to call you by
Despicable? Monstrous? Murderer?
You are nothing but an amoeba,
A virus causing a terrible sickness
A sickness that comes with your actions,
Sorrow, depression, a sense of loss
All sickening, every bit as much as you

You, who represent nothing,
Are nothing, worth nothing
Not the time, or the energy
You are not worth anything
Nothing you do is worth it

You might as well give up now
You don’t deserve to live
You didn’t let him live
He who was only four, just a child

What of his brother too?
What would you have done to him?
Or was he too old for you?
Eight year olds can fight back
Eight year olds can scream and yell
Eight year olds can tell

I guess he was old enough though
Eight years old and he knew better
Or was he the only one to avoid you?
What of her, their mother?
She must’ve really loved you,
To stay with you through it all
Although how she managed that,
I don’t think I’ll ever know.

Maybe it’s because she was in on it too.
She knew what you were doing,
She didn’t do anything to stop you
She let you beat her up, as a cover up
With those cigarette burns
The black eyes and “broken bones”
You know she just claimed those, right?
The doctors proved otherwise

We know she left the house that Friday
She went out with her father
He’s furious now, fuming even,
Mulling over what his daughter did
What his daughter could have done
That was his grandson too
That was his baby boy
That was everyone’s baby boy

Why did that upset you so much?
Wetting his pants isn’t that bad
So what if it got on the couch a little?
He was only four, he couldn’t help it
Why did you blame him for that?
How could you blame him for that?

You burned him, his whole body
There were only two inches left
Would you have gone after those too?
Would you have kept going?
How far would you have pressed it?
Did you stomp on him because he lived?
Was it his will-power?
Was that what made you snap?

All these questions I ask
All the whats and whys
They will never be answered
You could never answer them
You could never understand them
You could never comprehend them

You are nothing more than incompetent
You are pathetic and useless
You are not worth the life you have
Even in the hospital like now
Even in Intensive Care, wired up
Even bordering death, on those machines
I bet they’re all keeping you alive
With their beeps and clicks
With that line of your heartbeat
You don’t deserve it

What you did was despicable,
Horrendous, monstrous
What you did is unforgivable

Whatever you tried to accomplish
Whatever your thoughts were
Whatever your sick, twisted, plot was
You’ll pay for it now, for all of it.
If you don’t regret it now,
You’ll start to. It won’t matter though.
Nothing you ever do will matter
Nothing you do will ever matter now

We know it was you
We know what you did
We all know what resulted
I’m sure you know too
The physical result of your actions
The physical loss of a life
The physical disappearance of a body
That of a young boy
One whose life you took
But you shall never know the pain
You shall never understand the hurt
You never could comprehend it,
The emotional result of your actions
The mental impact you’ve had
You can’t even begin to imagine

You tore so many to shreds
Ripped them to little pieces
Scattered them through the air
So freely, so carelessly
You didn’t care, did you?
Of course you didn’t, you couldn’t
You called him a “little crack addict.”
He was four years old.
You were the druggie, not him.

You, who represent nothing,
All because of what you did
You, who is an amoeba,
A pathetic excuse for a human,
A murderer
You, who wasn’t worth it,
You aren’t worth it
And honestly,
You will never be worth it

The author's comments:
Story of Dominick Calhoun

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