That girl doesn't know.

She thinks her father is angry at her.

His swinging fists meet her bare flesh,

Agonizing screams escape her raw, chapped lips,

Bloody from biting down,

From denying their escape for too long.

She thinks her mother doesn't love her.

The woman blames her for her own lost childhood

The girl tries to please her, 

But to no avail.

The man shouldn't have touched her.

That kind of touch should be reserved

For those you love,

Not little girls with broken hearts and homes.

The boy never loved her.

He loved the idea of her;

The way she wanted him to see her.

She wasn't ready for him,

But "no" wasn't in his vocabulary.

The girl nearly wasted away,

But what the girl doesn't know

Is that there is more to life than the past.

Someday she will realize that the only thing that can define her

Is herself.