She walks to Junior High School,
with her head hung sad and low;
She's fearful that if she looks up,
her secrets might somehow show.
Her eye's are red and swollen,
from the tears that she had cried;
after the molestation,
that she endured last night.
Her dress is old and tattered,
faded with age and time;
a hand-me-down from the neighbors,
who's hearts are soft and kind.
All day long she listens,
to the laughter and cruel words;
of her fellow classmates,
as they shame this precious girl.
She never has any money,
when each day her lunch-time arrives;
so she patiently sits on the playground,
no matter what the weather outside.
When the school bell finally rings,
at the end of her school day;
she walks home very slowly,
apprehensive and afraid.
She can hear the voices yelling,
as closer to home she gets;
She knows that soon she'll encounter,
what her heart will never forget.
She says a prayer before entering,
the large and old, oak door;
that leads into her nightmare,
that began when she was four.
The loved one's stop their shouting,
and quietly stare at this young girl;
Her fate lies in their perverted hands,
where their touch's are painful to endure.
They continue with their shouting,
as if she never came home;
and she's thankful for the daylight,
for at night their hand's always roam.
When her bedtime arrives, much too soon,
she says a simple prayer;
not for herself, but for the one's,
who have brought guilt into her world.
Now this teenage girl is grown,
and has long since moved away;
I look at my past and then realize,
I am stronger because of the shame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem