When I woke up this morning
I saw a little face
Mild and meek
Peeking through the cracks in her fingertips
I can feel her weeping quietly in the darkness
Wispers that no one can utter
She feels the cold grip of fear but does not speak
She can feel again
Little lost soul
Little figers grasping onto the cold walls she errected
Little face dark with intensity
There is no place to run
No safty
No smiles
teeth catter
Knees knocking
Echoing through every bone
Drifting through empty valleys
Here she hides
Deep inside mind
Left behind and frozen in time
She is the poetry
that died
With an open heart we meet
face to face
Quietly we sit
Listening intent
Where words breath