Like a heavy blanket laid across her back

or a burden wrapped around her neck like a scarf

Head always facing the ground

There's not enough light to look up

Her boots are torn,

and her greasy red hair clings to her rosey cheeks

Fingers fly as she walks by

and eventually she beings to weep

A child with no father

not really a child at all

but a warrior

"Whats your name?", I asked her

all she wanted was a friend

but no friend would ever be good enough

to put sorrow to an end

She looked me in my eyes

with eyes as green as greens

and told me her name was bastard child

as serious as she could be

Warrior

They tell her she stinks

though she has no place to bathe

They tell her she looks restless

though she has no place to lay

So tell me why again,

you made fun of her that day?

Because just to live and breathe

she has to work her life away?

Because she isn't scared of reality?

Or that she's never had a dad?

Or was it all because you thought she smelled "really bad"

Warrior