Stained

Sitting on the floor staring,
into the white painting i see.
of an innocent little girl,
staring back at me.
i raise my hand which weilds a pen,
and neatly write in black.
All the expectations she needs,
all those that will hold her back.
as i write each and every word,
she smiles a little less.
and in my clumsy hurry,
i spill black ink on her dress.
'you will be expected to be polite,
to always be neat and kind.
you will not disobey my orders,
and will hand over anything you find.'
i leave this painting... for another time,
i leave this girl... to grow and change.
to abide by these expectations,
to adapt and rearrange.

when i return years have passed,
she is slightly older.
yet she is still innocent.
and just a little bolder.
i raise my pen, black once again.
and adjust her fragile look.
thick black eyeliner, bright red lips,
and a fine figure replaces her book.
a preteen now she is.
a preteen- ready and ripe.
completely innocent, kind and clean,
though no longer completely white.

then i draw in an older man,
a father figure perhaps?
she sings him a song and dances,
and smiles as he claps.

so i leave this painting... for another time
i leave this girl... with a father to love
i leave this man... with a daughter to hold
and still, she is pure, pure as a dove

i am greeted with a shocking sight,
when i visit this painting once more.
the young girl i left behind,
is lying on the floor.
what looks like tears are seeping down,
off the papers edge.
and written in the running ink,
is a young girls pledge.
'never shall i love again,
never shall i smile.
the guy i loved has hurt me,
and has been for a while.
i shall sit here forgotten,
left here crying and pained.
i shall sit here forgetting,
the reason i am stained.'

no smile that was so caring,
instead her tears a shed.
her dress no longer white,
but rather, it is stained red.

Sitting on the floor staring,
at this painting that once was white.
wondering what might have happened,
to cause these two to fight.
when i noticed that she was not innocent,
that she was no longer pure.
that he had done something to her,
that she had just had to endure.
for no one was here to listen,
no one to hold her head.
and now her innocence is gone,
and her silky dress stained red.