The little girl.
There was a little girl, wee and dumb,
Trusted by all and hated by none.
Being the spoilt princess, her choice,
She was moody, yes, but never vice.
Living in her castle of glass she dreamt,
Of all things beautiful, straight or bent.
Everyone was allowed in her heart,
It had room for the world, however tart.
But people didn’t get her right and clear,
They left her alone in hurt and fear.
Crushed her self-esteem and her morals,
One moment she was in the skies, the next deep in the corals.
Shaken and confused she stood alone,
Awake, yet asleep as the sun shone.
Her castle was in pieces, broken to the ground,
She quit the game of trying; she couldn’t play one more round.
Naked, bruised and tattered, she moves through the mire,
That which could possibly burn her now, there wasn’t such a fire.
She’d seen it all, been through it and came up alive,
She herself was with her, she needed no other life.
Trust no one, that’s what she’d learnt,
However brutal, but that’s what happens when you are burnt.
She’s still breathing, she suddenly realized,
Body aching, hopes paralysed,
She will still have to stand up tall,
Put up a brave front and defeat ‘em all.
Come out with glory and pride,
‘cuz her mum raised her to ride all tides.
Her castle will stand again, the winds will guide her raft,
She will be strong and brave, not lean and daft.
Friends and family to add to the fun,
There’ll also be a prince charming waiting to ride in the sun!