A Victorian house,
Though upon this house only views one window,
Locket in by walls,
Behind them lay’s the torture,
This little girl,
With his pants to his feet,
I felt her body tremble,
Oh sweet child,
Skin as white as milk,
Those broken ebony eyes,
Bleak and empty,
I’d vast upon her shadow,
In that window shelled by sin,
A shattered hope,
As her shaky hands would touch the glass,
To look at what she will never have,
I saw her on a cold night’s walk,
Her precious body swaying,
What had happened,
You can’t name suffering,
A single window to the world,
Her escape. |
