It is that dangerous, vulnerable time in the morning, after a meager breakfast that she was forced to prepare by herself
Is is that dangerous loose feeling of being falsely nourished, and barely satisfied
When she could be taken and had,sitting like a lamb for slaughter
Sitting like a little girl with her dolls ready to enjoy her day
Run outside into the vital light of the sun !!
Before your neglectful parents lazily wake up and find you murdered by a stranger.***
***This is true & has stuck with me over 2 yrs. I wrote another poem about it here "Last Meals". I was kidnapped and beaten and there were several kidnap attempts on my life, but I survived. This little girl had a stone pounded into her skull and died. Now I hold the stone so to speak to throw back at these grave offenders.
