Within these four walls
the little one calls home,
houses some domestic monster.
Many a nights shes condemned to her room
savage rainfall drowning out the scarring belt lashes
delivered by a familiar hand.
Of nights cloaked in thick fog
she engages in conversation with the shadows,
Armed with an attraction too the other side
in a dance with the white raven;
she offers her palm to world beyond the bounds of comprehension.
Her cries; too her knowledge go unheard;
these long short years of trauma
soon to befriend this little girl.
Lurking beyond sight there lie a realm
occupied by a legion of friends
too children.
Tonight the final bottle of whiskey will be polished;
Unseen guardians set in motion
a treatment that will last a lifetime.
Sitting in rare silence
her eyes,
watching a dark figure pass her doorway
laid to rest without fear on her face,
her nightmares will no longer have a sequel.