Look at the perfect little girl,
With her perfect little curls,
Wearing her perfect little mask,
Hiding her oh so perfect past.
If you look closely into her ocean blue eyes you will see the raging storm inside.
You’ll see her rain like tears,
Her swirling pain,
Her raging damage,
A little child meek and mild,
scared and wild.
A little child searching far and wide,
For someone to be by her side.
Searching for arms to hold her tight.
Listening for that voice to say,
“It’s gonna be okay. I am here, have no fear.
I will hold you close my dear”
She wanders aimlessly,
Forever lost,
Forever left behind.
Searching for the one to see through the mask,
See through her fake smile,
Her rehearsed laughter.
Looking for someone to help remove her mask,
kiss away the tears,
hold her close and whisper in her ear,
“it’ll be okay.”
But who will do all this?
Who will help?
Will you?
Will you hold her?
Help her?
Kiss her?
Make her safe?
Cause if not you then who will?
Who will help,
the perfect little girl,
With her perfect little curls,
Wearing her perfect little mask,
Hiding her oh, so perfect past.