Poor little girl in the window,
Go on and look as you pass by.
She’s the one in the center,
Trying to catch your eye.

Her price tag hangs in the open,
Blending into her lack of clothes,
But the truth is hidden underneath…
The truth that no one knows.

Notice her friends around her,
All masculine, not many girls,
Eagerly waiting to use her,
Run heated fingers through curls.

Look a little closer…
Does she have any friends at all?
Or did she lose them summers back,
Before her tragic fall?

Led away into a carriage,
Also known as a pick-up truck,
She didn’t realize what she was getting into,
Though she would shortly be tripped up.

“He loves me... He loves me not…”
The final petal said he did.
Not willing to accept his addiction
To drugs, sex, and other sins.

Little changes here and there
Were not noticeable at first,
But months, then a year flew by.
Her life was ticking, ticking to burst.

Covering up the bruises,
She made it a game for herself, a sport.
Sadly she didn’t realize that
She was losing her self worth.

Turning down many opportunities
For the person she thought she loved,
She turned down her whole life,
Shutting everyone out with a thud.

Unhappy she became,
Alone in a world that didn’t exist,
Continuing to cling to him,
Suffering through unnecessary hardships.

Yes, attached she did stay,
Though he felt no attachment at all.
Her life so off balanced,
At night she’d tuck away and bawl.

Many ends came along,
Only to be replaced with a new attempt,
At trying to make something work,
Trying with great intent.

One last end was just around the corner,
Striking her, paralyzing her… so I thought.
But when I tried to help her up,
I realized how dangerously she’d been caught.

Her brain isn’t wired like yours or mine.
It’s hard to say what that means.
In short, it means her vision is twisted,
On a great many things.

She’ll throw herself at you,
Wanting to be loved, but she doesn’t know
That love isn’t something to force,
It’s something that simply grows.

She’ll be noisy and proud and obnoxious,
Put on more make-up and try to impress.
She does all these things to please you,
Though inside, she can’t stand herself not at rest.

So there you see her now in the window,
Trying to get herself bought,
But for now she’ll just be rented,
A means of entertainment: a robot.

Until she cleans her heart a little,
She’ll remain in the window of everyone’s life,
A porcelain doll, glowing to be seen…
On the inside, a suffering life.

Poor little girl in the window.
Go on and look as you pass by.
She’s the one in the center,
Trying to catch your eye.