Little girl wandering, alone in the night
Eyes growing wider as the thing draws near
Born with a soul of purest white snow
comment's bout this poem send to:sicklehook@advanix.net
Her quivering lips and eyes show her fright
Followed by dread, the them and the its
Lost in the shadows, quiet she sits
Her heart growing tighter with anguish and fear
What is this thing that creeps in the dark
Using this child, and leaving its mark
This little child lives with a pain you can't know
Tortured by things unseen by your eye
All you can do is whisper "don’t cry."
