A dysfunctional world is torture to it’s children,
A world that moves a little girl around like a ping pong ball,
Bounced from one to another for her love.

But isn’t that the life of a child?
To be without power or choice,
Always going with the change of the wind,
Always praying for a safe harbor to land on. 

Spending life as the child who had her love exposed ,
Always an open door…
an open mind.

Yet there is still so much pain in that way of living.

Closing inward is a death sentence
Opening up is a risk of getting hurt.

Yet she still chooses to live with maximum love,
What other way is there?
What else gives life meaning other than love?