Thank you, little girl.

For hiding your shaking

hands and nervous breaths

And faking a façade of

Smooth stability.

For smiling during the storms

And writing yourself a wooden leg

To support you through the

Onslaught of insults and complacency.

 

Thank you, my little girl,

For the tears.

Like the sky after hurricanes,

Your eyes were empty.

Your mind was numb.

But

Your bruised heart beat on.

Your feeling was lost but

your hope trudged along.

Still going, still limping

On that bashed and battered wooden leg.

 

Thank you, my girl,

Because now I know

I don’t need

My wooden leg

Anymore.