There is a word for love,
There is a word for sadness,
There is a word for anger.

Yet I have tried, again and again,
To find a word for how I feel
About that little girl in my memories,

And I have found nothing.

There is not a word for how I long to hold her close,
Whisper that it will be okay,
That things will get better with time,
That she will not always feel alone.

There is not a word for how I wish I could slow down time,
Show her the things that will happen,
So that she may prepare herself
For how it will hurt.

There is not a word for how I want to discard her,
Rip her hands away from my sleeve,
Be as cruel to her as her constant cries have been to me.

There is a word for love,
For sadness,
And for anger.

But never one for her.