The first time she heard the scream
She gaily rocked by on her swing
As they dealt her blow on blow
She walked past the stream, bent and slow
The dolls with the pins stuck deep,
Covered the shelves lying in a heap,
The plastic toys burnt and strewn,
The grass uncut, trees hewn
A little girl walked past my window each day
Sombre, a corpse, living to die today
She uttered not a word, nor a sound
The merry-go kids, goes round and round...
A lady in the cabin stared,
It was a desk filled with teddys scarred
A glitzy wrapping stood there proud
But frowns it elicited, the vestige of a lonesome crowd...
The people jeered and mocked and cried,
For she bought self-gifts and roses and toys
But one ventured to ask her - why
She lived a child's life and always smiled,
She held my hand and led me away,
A yard filled with weeds and stray
An uncovered grave there I saw
Brambles, thorns, flesh rotting raw,
The epitaph on the marble read,
"The child who gaily never went to bed,
May in her youth the roses grow
For thorns covered a childhood slow"
Her soul died when she was five
And success reached the now lady naive
As she stared at the chocolates on her bed
She wondered why people walked past her, heads bent...
She was now the child she longed to be
Jumping and skipping and finally free
But they teased her so, called her dumb
Not knowing the child was killed, and she again went numb...
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