Wednesday's Child

She sees her world through misty tears;
She cries at night when no one hears.
Her young life filled with dreadful fears
And she is old beyond her years.

She listens for the creaking stair
And offers up a silent prayer,
But she cannot escape from there
And sleep is just one more nightmare.

With somber eyes, so dark and grey,
She watches other children play.
If they come near, she runs away.
She is afraid of what they'll say.

Her face is smudged with dirty streaks;
Her shoes are small and hurt her feet.
They call her dumb...she never speaks.
They say she's stupid and a freak.

At home, alone, she hugs her bear;
His fur is dusty and threadbare.
She comforts him with loving care
And tells him he should not be scared.

She holds tight to his shabby paw
And sits cross-legged upon the floor.
She watches through the open door
And cries with eyes red-rimmed and sore.

She pulls her knees up to her chin;
Her arms are bruised and painfully thin.
The light outside grows pale and dim
As she waits for it to begin.

She crouches in the corner low
For she has nowhere else to go.
Her tiny frame rocks to-and-fro
And whimpers softly with each blow.

As peacefully at last, she sleeps,
The ragged bear, his vigil keeps.
A tear, it seems, rolls down his cheek,
But Wednesday's Child no more will weep.

This Bird Has Flown

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