"Mama loves you."
Mama coos as she sews her daughter's lips shut.
The little girl nods and lies still in her bed,
"Daddy loves you."
Daddy murmurs as he cuts out his daughter's heart.
The little girl nods and presses her favorite blanket close,
"Sister loves you."
Sister states as she cuts off her sister's legs.
The little girl nods and sleeps away.

But the morning brings to light all that's happened
What she has sacrificed to make others happy
And the little girl cannot ignore it.
But, she reasons, it is better to be kind
Then to be greedy.
So she passes the effect of blood loss off as exhaustion
The feeling of emptiness as over-active hormones
And again closes her eyes
To wait for a sense of contentment,

She was still waiting when a voice caught her attention.
She resisted opening her eyes
Instead only listening to the words he spoke,
And though the events he told about drew questions to her lips
The little girl could not say a word.

He seemed to understand this,
For he faithfully visited the torn little girl everyday
Feeding her all that he knew
And seeking out what he could not answer
When her small fingers wrote out her questions
Of stereotypes, of stars upon flags
Promising to bring back what he had found.

Back and forth the two went.
She writing her questions
And he answering all that he could,
His constant presence eventually encouraging her
To open her eyes.

The little girl was shocked at what she saw.
He had chocolate brown eyes
A faint scattering of freckles upon cream skin
But even more so
No blood stained his cloud white shirt
He had his legs.

Prompted she looked at herself
And if she could have gasped she would have,
No more was she a little girl
But a teenager.

This realization and with it the true weight
Of what she had passively allowed
Boiled inside of her.
To regain what she had foolishly given away.

The teenage girl found the strength to sit up
Childhood blanket hiding her chest wound from the man
Whose presence she had become enamored with.
She took back her legs
And followed happily after the man
Who did not mind the duckling that had become his shadow.

Spurred by this and anger
She tore the thread from her lips
Eyes stinging with pain and victory.
She fought bravely for her heart
Carrying half as a partial victory
Glad to have that much.

It was the beginning of the contentment
That the once torn little girl
Had always wished for.