Little Girl With The Old Soul

She's always on the outside looking in.
Always at the outer edges of everybody's circles.
She is only here to observe,
so She never makes contact,
never gets involved,
She's always watching from a distance.

Her eyes are Her greatest weapon,
but the reason for all Her suffering.
Like a double edged sword,
or a coin with two sides,
no,
like a gift and a curse.

She relcalls everything She has seen as a child.
To be able to see the world with no abstractions,
has forced Her to mature too quickly.
She is the little girl with the old soul.

She did not always bare this gift,
this gift is the resault of a tragidy.

She recalls a poorly lit room as dark and cold as the grave.
And how a sudden wave of dread buried Her like gravel.

She recalls the weight of a lage shadow creep up over Her.
With a pressure so great that She was unable to breathe,
let alone muster up a muffled scream.

Her eyes made perfect circles,
but she still couldn't see much,
all She could see was a dark, crooked smile turn into grimace.

Paralyzed by fear and agony,
She thought that She'd see an early grave that night,
but She wouldn't be that lucky.
Instead, the shadown blessed Her with a gift,
well, more of a curse actually.

To be able to see the world with no abstractions.

Reviews

[ANTO]

Powerfully moving writing QS. An innocent becomes jaded instantaneously via the conduit of a daemon without mercy. This is so relevant in light of the sheer scale of child molestation that is having a light shone on it all over the world and your tag says personal. Im sorry anyone has to experience such barbarity -
"all She could see was a dark, crooked smile turn into grimace. " - so strong in imagery.
Thank you for sharing this with us.

[QuietSeer]

Thank you. ANTO, for always taking the time to read my poety, I truely appreciate it.