the streets werent safe to walk
they stared,laugh and talk
they so near,close and thier touch
if she could tell anyone,she would be called weak much

so hard for that child
men with her playing wild

she went for nothing
she just smiled

she is not weak
she is child

she would cry,confuse and scream.
she was quite cause she had dream
its not her dress,its his mind
its not poetry,its feeling cant be rhymed

took her by hand,abused and tried again
she is child please she wont understand