.
out of the corner of my eye,
a slight hint of her.
her life is but a timid sigh,
a constant reminder.
.
some days she weighs quite heavily,
this damaged little child.
she follows from a distance,
wounded, meek and mild.
.
she watches me from her dark world
of cold unyielding rain,
a place where promises aren’t real.
instead they just bring pain.
.
she lives in dark confusion.
what did she do so wrong?
in longing desperation
she seeks only to belong
.
the guilt of all she is that’s bad
weighs a sickening ton.
the beatings seem to last so long,
but then at least it’s done.
.
she knows she is the one to blame.
if only she knew why.
some days she just can’t bear the shame,
but she’s afraid to cry.
.
she thinks there is another world
at times she’s dared dream of.
where she isn’t just an ugly girl
unworthy of even her mother’s love.
.
she longs to fix what’s wrong with her;
she searches in the mirror.
i look up from my reflection
determined to always hear her.
/lsc
a note from bugs 