Hurting Little Girl Poem by Sierra Staten

Thus was not a miracle,
Slipping slowly from her hands,
It was something lyrical 
In rhythm, like romance.

Thus was not a tear,
Slipping slowly from her face.
It was a way of showing,
How Her body ached with pain.

Even now, at gatherings we saw she disappeared,
Waited- Waited, but her body never neared.
How bloody, her wrists had been, everybody feared-
She would try so desperately to get out of here.

Nobody could help her, though everybody tried-
Nothing they did helped, it only made her cry.
A small Self-conscious girl, just passing through her life.
Her, herself not knowing how she even felt inside.

Hidden in the shadows, thriving when it rains.
A little girl emerges, hand on chest- In pain.
Nobody could stop her, because it was already done.
Nobody had even known, that she had the gun. 

3/14/12