A little girl, with tears in her eyes, <br />kneels gently beside her bed; <br />she's either praying for safety, or <br />pleading that she was dead. <br /> <br />She says 'Amen' and tucks herself in, <br />her dolly in her hand; <br />and in her world, what she's soon to <br />face, she can't possibly understand. <br /> <br />She gets no goodnite kisses, no 'I <br />love you, don't you know'; <br />and as the lights are turned off, <br />one by one, her fear begins to grow. <br /> <br />They always lay beside her, and then <br />the horror begins; <br />just as it has for many years now, <br />and as it will again. <br /> <br />She holds her dolly tightly, as if <br />it could protect her somehow; <br />but she knows she is at their mercy, <br />and the torture will take place now <br /> <br />She feels the need to make them happy, <br />for she desperately longs to be loved; <br />so she participates in their sick, <br />little games, as she feels like a <br />caged, little dove. <br /> <br />If she had wings, she would fly away, <br />to a place where there is no pain; <br />and her feelings would be those of <br />pride and self-worth, not guilt, <br />heartache and shame. <br /> <br />But no wings can be found on this <br />child, though to most she's a <br />precious dove; <br />but to the adults who hurt her every <br />night, she's an object, not to be loved.<br /><br />Ruth warren<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-caged-dove/
