Remembering, all those days,
And the dark nights,
The cold, and the wet.
The pain that has been caused,
And the webs that have been wove.
That small child. I watch her.
She lays quietly, as she shakes and
Shivers in the bleak and dainty reality.
Fingers grip, at young, tender skin; she grasps for
Something within her. Something to save her, perhaps,
From the wondering, grasping nightmare.
The child is weak.
She bleeds her remaining strength.
A war descending upon such a tender offspring is cruel, heartless; evil.
She sat up, from her dreams; awakened in meek light by pain and a lump in her throat. Tired muscles made small spasms as she attempted to control her body, curling up into a ball, protecting her soul from the sins of another. Dry eyes found small blessings of tears as they rolled across her pale face and down her chest, gently soothing her wounds. A slight release from the hurt he had thrust upon her.
Barriers broke... crumbled;
Falling from on high,
Tumbling to the dust in the ground.
Debris clamed up
About her feet
The destruction caused;
Unacceptable, incompatible.
I am stronger now.
She cradles her heart,
I am stronger now.
Hides it away,
I am stronger now.
Lock and key...
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