She walks to school,
with her head hung low;
A bruise has formed,
'neath her high, cheek bone.
~
She's been beaten again,
from her head to her toes;
T'is a nightly ritual,
in her small, shabby home.
~
A sack lunch she carries,
she's not eaten in days;
Her coat, much too large,
is beginning to fade.
~
The children all stare,
and giggle at her;
It is all her fault,
of this she is sure.
~
She turns around quickly,
and heads straight for home;
She runs through the door,
once again all alone.
~
She eats her sack lunch,
what a welcome delight;
Her heart has been shattered,
and so this child cries.