Once, a little girl, so sweetly secure.

Worried about nothing.

Everything was fine.

Never was she dirted...

She was then pulled down,

Off her tiny feet.

Placed on filfthy ground, face full of dirt.

Teased and uncomfortable.

She never returned to same, sweet, silly,

Little, clean girl, you used to know.

Cutting curvy lines on chubby thighs.

Started looking thin,

As straight as a twig.

With head hanging low.

Softly saying "It's Okay."

We found her.

Dying slowly, because she thought,

She could keep

This think, greasy mess, a secret.

Hoping to handle it... Solo.