She huddles against the dirty wall <br />hugging it ever so tight; <br />hopeing that he will choose not to do <br />the things, he did last night. <br /> <br />Her breathing is ever so shallow <br />no signs of life in her. <br />A technique she's developed with perfection, <br />to guard her twisted world. <br /> <br />'Maybe he will think i'm dead, ' she hopes <br />'For he can't see me breath, <br />perhapes for just one night, <br />he will turn around and leave' <br /> <br />Her wishes fade away in the night <br />as he climb into her bed <br />and any hopes of fooling him <br />are replaced with anquish and dread. <br /> <br />She knows too well the ritual, <br />it's the same as the night before. <br />The abuser will take what he wants from her <br />and no words will this child implore. <br /> <br />For she tries so hard to please him <br />and everyone she loved. <br />Yet all of the time she cringes <br />from their touch. <br /> <br />While she is huddled against the wall <br />never once looked in to he's eyes <br />She can almost she him smiling <br />as he rape this child of nine. <br /> <br />This little girl holds back the tears. <br />she knows she soon will cry <br />she utters not a single word. <br />As he enjoys the one he despise. <br /> <br />And when the torment is over, <br />he leave without a sound, <br />and the tears that she's been holding back, <br />fall silently to the ground.<br /><br />Ruth warren<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-little-girl/
