Who blesses this child that cries alone, when the place that’s safe is farthest from home.
To whom does she thank for the large dreams broken and who will wipe her face when tear stained shirt is soaking.
Who does she run to when the path has no end, when the only thing she desires most she can’t find in her closest friend.
Who cries for her when her ducts have finally run themselves dry and can’t hold her head up to look you in the eye.
Who cries, for the lies that choke her, for the time she won’t get back for the innocence of hers taken that she won’t ever get back
Who deserves to be thanked for not being protected, but maybe this is what she deserves so her clothes suggest it.