In a house near a lake
far from a town.
Lived a women and a girl
where laughter was never found.
The girl was only eight
but from experiences she was grown.
Every night she stayed in her room
depressed, sadened, and alone.
Her only friends
were the ones one her bed,
her porclein dolls
given to her by the dead.
The women she lived with
was not at all in her right mind.
She wasn't a good care taker
nice, nor even kind.
She would lock the girl in her room
fed her once a day,
never let the girl see sunlight
just made her sit and decay.
However things changed
but only for the worse.
The girls only chance
was to try to kill her first.
The women came in her room,
busted down the door,
grabed the girl around the neck,
and watched her gradually fall to the floor.
Gapsing for air
the girl struggled to breath,
her life flashed before her
as oxygen began to leave.
Blackness soon came
and no where she could see.
The women wouldn't let her go,
she just wouldn't let her be.
The girl layed on the floor
and the women took her knife
realized what she had done
and took her own life.
and close to the door
all that was found
was a broken porclein doll
and not a single soul around.

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