Flower

There's this little girl who I spot picking dandelions for her imaginary friends or running through the tall green grass, her hair flowing gracefully behind her.

Her hair is always a little tangled from play, but it never ceases to make me smile. Its long and brown with the ends turned golden from the kisses of the sun. I love to watch the way it jumps and dances when she moves.

Her eyes are bright and curious. They notice my stare and smile at me.

But then the smile fades. Her hair falls flat against her stiffened body. She can see right through my masked smile. She knows what I know.

I try to call out to her, tell her not to be afraid. It's no use, for she can see the pain in my eyes, and she can see the wounds on my heart.

A tear slips out from her big brown eyes. I wish I could take her in my arms and fly away to another life. She does not want this one we share and neither do I.

I wish I could take her place. Feel the lash of the whip on my back yet again. Feel the overwhelming sting of my hair ripping from my scalp, and taste the drip of my salty tears on my lips each night.

She is beautiful. She is kind. She is innocent. She does not deserve to be broken.

I am spoiled. I am bruised inside and out. My heart is cold and my eyes are empty. I am already broken. I can take another hit for her.

I pray for an angel to come and take her away from her future and release her from the monsters before they capture her sweet soul and tear it apart.

Then a dove emerges from the clouds above and sores down to meet us. It takes us both into the sky on its glorious wings. Free at last.