The child flings out her hands
Behind her is the marching band.
They had gotten in with a small fee.
“Daddy, will you hug me?”
Unexpectedly her father ignores
At home is a smattering of blood and gore
“Hug me? You’re too old for that!”
The child’s hair is a dirty mat
Her mouth is bleeding yet she feels no pain
Instead she feels the burning shame
She doesn’t raise the question again
And the years flow by like wind in a rain
The child grows up and goes to work
And fate decides to give a smirk
A motorbike crashes into hers
Making her spin, messing up furs
She wakes up, on a cold bed
A thick bandage that wraps around her head
Her eyes notice her father next to her
His sad speech is hard to hear.
Her breath leaves fast and she’s going to die.
How fast, she thinks, does time fly?
Her beeps get too slow,
Her voice gets too low.
Sucking in breath with a shiver in her chest
Her mangled leg is nothing but a mess
She’s sick and tired of this world
Slowly, slowly, her arms uncurl.
Her father is nothing but bones and skin
“Daddy, daddy,” the child begins.
“Will you hug me?”