She was born to live.  She didn’t ask for this abuse.

Her life doesn’t seem broken;  but it’s obviously loose.

She understands making excuses, are nothing more than lies;

But when school lets out, and it time to go home, before she gets there, she cries.

Being with him she’s scared.  She’s forced to be alone.

While her mother looks away, from the pain, of one of her own.

She’s asked, “How was your day?”;  but she feels it’s a trick question.

Asked by someone, she feels, should give the first interjection.

A helpless feeling, from deep down inside,

Hurts along with the bruises, she’s trying to hide.

Abuse is abuse, whether sexual, physical or mental.

She doesn’t understand how someone so fragile is not being treated gentle.

She loses her will everyday, from, putting up this front.

Because giving him what he wants, feels like not accomplishing, a dangerous stunt.

She demands the guidance to leave,  but really wants, someone to believe,

That when she asks, “please, someone help me.  I have the proof.  Are you willing to see?”

To be so young and have, her whole life ahead,

It’s natural to want to live, and not want to be dead.

But she can’t keep holding this lie, that she’s taking left inside.

Deep down she has to be strong, because she knows she’s not the one that did something wrong.

At last someone grabbed her hand,

told her she was safe and, they understand.

She gives thanks for helping her out,