Stolen Into Silence

She is sitting there, wishing she could speak, but the little girl knows she cannot. Not here, not where the conversation bubbles, she longs for mommy, but mommy is lost; at least to her she it. They have taken her from the little girl, she is mommy's little monster hiding. The conversation surrounds her, unconcerned with her silence; she longs to use her voice but here it does not belong. She can only have stolen moments, moments she is losing. Time ticks by, mommy? Laughter from their lips, but not because of her. Silence drips down her throat, so she contends her her ways to watch, in her silence. Voice waxes pale, lack of use, closed in upon itself. She continues to sit and wait. Silent.