The Little Girl

Today I passed this little girl,
And I could tell she was sad and confused.
Here shirt was torn as well as her jeans,
And she was wearing old, spoiled shoes.

I could tell something was wrong,
When I looked into her eyes.
But I assumed if I asked her,
She would’ve cried and told me lies.

By the looks of her I could tell,
That she was badly abused.
When I got home I wished I would’ve helped her,
Before I seen her on the news.

The little girl went home that night,
And grabbed her daddy’s gun.
She put it to her head and pulled the trigger,
And just like that, her life was done.

Now she’s in a safe place,
She’s in heaven up above.
Now she’s in a place,
Where she is happy and will always be loved.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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