Two

Once upon a time,

      There was a little girl,
        Her dark haired fringe hung into her green eyes,
            Her temper was  bigger then an Irish mans,
                   Her Jealousy worse then an unloved lover. . .

         Her neglect worse then a child dumped in a bin. . .

          Who cries for hours. . .
     
                . . . But call is never heard.

           And Empathy that out-sized her.

That little girl
She had an aunt,

   Whose dark fringe hung into her green eyes,
     Her temper like an Unexploded Bomb,
           Her Hurt worse then a car crash victims survivor. . .

      Whose Lover just passed silently away.

      Her neglect worse then a child,

         . . . Who sits alone in the playground,

         Because others graze and cut her knees,

           and emotions,

       worse then scissors,

    . . . .Her Empathy bigger then anything else she'd ever know.


Once upon a Christmas,

     The little girl sat upon a dark lonely stair,
                  Clutching her chest,
                        Heaving with tears,  
 
     Because she was alone,
             And nobody cared.

Her aunt came up those stairs,
         And hugged her,

The little girl no energy,
                       No hatred,
                          To push away with,

Hugged hard back.

       And they held each other until she stopped crying.  

Her aunt,
          Got kicked,
                      Till her stomach bruised,
                         till her Mouth drew blood.

         Till her arm broke.
       
          And she had to tell her mother she tripped over on Ice.

A few Chritmas's later.

         The little girls brother runs away,

             and people start beating her,

Her aunt holds her once more,

Till she stops crying.

  She tells her how brave she is.

     And although she thinks her world is over,

                 It really isn't.

Once upon a time,

         When her aunt was just a little girl,

            She had to watch,
         Her mom turn Krimson, purple,

      Like the bruises on her legs.

       She screamed out,

        And begged him to STOP! STOP! . . .

She did it every night.

     But one day

  She learnt how to use the telephone. . .

       She learnt the three most important numbers of her life

               999


Now those girls. . .

      No longer girls. . . but young women,

                Sit on a bed,

   As her aunt, wipes away both their tears.

   That Little girl,

              She Smiles now,
                      She loves now,
                            Shes going to college now.

            She's gonna be something.

  And my dear aunt,

             I look at you,

                My Hero.

You still hurt,
              You work in an office,
                      and live with your mom.

  What happened to you?

    Maybe its time for me to be your hero.

Please. . . why wont you take my hand?