She stood behind the wooden door,

hiding behind her own shadow,

she still knew not what would befell her,

her little feet and smaller hands they talk to each other in nervousness.

And then he came and asked her to get ready for the circus,

she did put on her prettiest dress,

all set for a day of joy and fun.

And yet she knew not as darkness fell,

she was taken away from uncle dear,

so suddenly that she did not decipher yet that uncle wasn’t coming her way.

And then she cried to the night,

and cried her heart through it,

but no shoulder came to her rescue,

and no loving voices led the way.

All she saw were those few men,

and felt the piercing pain,

she struggled and tried to cry out louder,

and she felt the sweaty glassy hands,

choking her every vein.

And she wished for death to come,

but death can be so cruel.

It came not till she had lost the smile and the voice,

and killed herself inside.

Death came with her one last scream,

with her story to her retold.

And I stood there and watched it gulp,

that little pretty girl as a whole.


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