A crescent moon wakes
To a heart's faded plee.
Muffled whispers of innocence,
As she dreams her last dream.
She's no longer sleeping,
From the noise that he makes.
The little girl watches,
As her mother, he breaks.
Yelling and screaming.
He smacks her around.
Never to stop,
Until there's blood on the ground.
"Mom, you didn't do anything!
It's good who you've been.
Don't let him call you dirt,
Don't say sorry to him!"
The child stood tall,
And masked her fears.
But as he walked closer,
She couldn't hide tears.
With a bottle in his hand,
And beer on his breath.
Night witnesses darkness,
As he brings to her, death.
Now the crescent moon sleeps,
To a mother's silent plee.
Her daughter was taken.
A soul was set free. |