Nov 212009
She is a silent, small child
But she sees… everything.
Behind doors, in the shadows…
She is as a ghost traveling corridors
Ancient and cold.
Children cry… Some of them scream
The adults shout… Some of them hit.
Deep down she hurts
Her lungs do bleed
When the cough comes
Sleep is an elusive desire.
One late night the ghost walked
Her coughs trapped in her hair
She heard the tears… She saw the fear…
And, then there was silence…
The child was alone.
The wind caught the tendrils of her hair…
There, upon the edge… High above the earth
She smiled.
She knows a secret.
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