The child with the wild eyes,
Is sitting on the bench in the dull park.
She is wary to the butterflies,
Twiddling like fairy ballerinas,
Just beyond her reach.
Pallas Athena watching fondly from the sky.
A bond of mother and daughter,
Prey and predator –never so sad.
Intermingled somaesthesia,
From an imaginable mother,
And a deadbeat dad.
No parents to care she's out after dark,
Or to wash her raggedy dress.
Just a torn report for a blanket,
And a scraped up arm for a pillow.
She lays her head upon her bench to sleep,
And silently; she forever dreams.

A poem I had written after reading a sad short story I read. About an 11-year-old girl who ran from home to escape her father who raped her, and her mother's death.