Little Girl Where is the child lost? How innocence is ripped away Replaced by sickened cynicism. Stricken by those who love you most Raped by those who whispered sweetness Pushed away by those who held too tight. The loved ones meant you well, Sweet baby girl. The whisperers only sought self-satisfaction. Your beauty, little girl, was not unnoticed. It has not vanished. You flaunt it falsely, Think you never had, Feel you must create it. Sweet girl, it's been created By the One who loves you more Than whispering deceivers Loves you more Than any other could. Wants to hold you in His arms If only you'll allow Him If only you'll allow yourself To be a child once more.

~~Erin Metcalf~~ © 1996