She walks alone,
Her face to the ground,
Arms wrapped around herself.
A sore sight she is,
With those raggedly cloths,
Darkened eyes of sorrow,
Cuts and bruises all over,
And natty hair.
She is somewhat weird
For she mumbles to herself
As she walks in the night
And is never seen about,
When the day is young.
One won't even dare,
To come near her.
For they have a fear,
That she is obstreperous.
For years ago,
Her family had died,
In a necromantic way.
Leaving people to think,
That she is to blame.
Kids taunt her,
As she walks by,
Adults shake their heads,
And speak atrociously of her.
Her past is woebegone.
A tear from your eye.
You would surely shed.
With no one to love her,
And no one to care,
She grew alone,
Herself, being her only friend.

Now let us look into her past.
Her father was a malevolent man.
For she feared him greatly.
To go against him,
Could cost your life.
Her mother, he had killed,
For she had tried to run.
She was then left alone with him,
To be beat and to live as his "slave",
Her cries where never heard.
And her pain was never known.
Another life and another world,
Had soon become her phantasm.
Like this, she had lived.
For many years of her life.
Until one day,
Her father met his fate.
It was but an accident,
When he fell down the stairs.
You see, she had tripped,
And landed into him,
Forcing him to fall to his well deserved death.
Now by this she is haunted,
For she had "murdered" her father.
She still hears his scream
That he let out when he fell.
Though, it is, and was, really hers. . .
 
Copyright © tweety_baby, All Rights Reserved