The Child
I envy the child, For never knowing true pain. The child is so sweet and mild, Who ever thought the child would go insane? The child grew up; Into a girl. Her expectations went up, No longer did she stand and twirl. She now feels pain, Pain of death, pain of love. “Never again,” She said would she ever feel love. She cares so much, Aching for his whisper; Longing for his touch, Nothing but silence does he whisper. Never can he say what, She longs to hear. Now her heart she has shut, Even to the ones she once held dear. Written March 23rd, 2002 © on Mar 23 2002 11:04 AM PST, Jessica Taylor 18 • 0 • 1
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"I envy the child,..."