Share   Print  Save   Become a Fan

Little girl, where are you going all by yourself?
I know I’ve seen you before just wondering around.
You seem dazed and confused, lost, but not found.
Little girl, when was the last time you felt good?
The last time you smiled? Danced? Breathed easy?
The last time you did not have to indulge the sleazy?

Little girl, I finally remember where I’ve seen you.
You used to live at the Hurt Park apartments on 17th Street.
I remember your chubby face, thick hair, and small feet.
Little girl, I remember the cries I heard come from you.
Your parents would argue or sometimes yelled at you.
You would stay in the corner of your room feeling blue.

Little girl, you were the one up against the wall in church.
You were the one refusing to stand up and fight him off you.
You were the one who stayed in the corner feeling so blue.
Little girl, you got so used to being used up.
You were the one praying for God to stop that man.
You were the one too young, too weak to take a stand.

Little girl, I remember the girl that you played with.
She lived across from your Aunt way back in the day.
She was just another wanderer you let have her way.
Little girl, it wasn’t your fault, no matter what they say.
It wasn’t your fault what happened on that day.
You stood back and let God lead your precious way.

Here you are, Little Girl,
I do remember you well.
You’re the one who stood up,
while the ones who hurt you fell.

This poem is deeply personal, but one that needs to be shared with others.