That Girl

Everyday on her way to school,
this little girl walked.
Head down.
No smile.
No emotion.
No sign of life.
She was sad,
so sad.
And very much alone.
She was dreaming.
Dreaming of a rescue.
Dreaming of a savior.
One that,
she never ever knew,
she was stuck.
No savior.
No future.
No laughter.
Just failure,
and probably death.
Then people would notice,
the hand print on her thought.
And the bruises on her face,
that were covered with makeup.
The cuts on her wrists,
that she tried to hide.
This girl grew up.
Everyday she would walk to school.
One day,
she didn't go to school.
One day turned into,
one week.
One week into
one month.
People started questioning,
"What happened to that girl?"
That girl,
had met her fate.
Now everyone knew,
what happened to that girl.
She died.
But even though,
no one really knew that girl,
they all felt pity in a sense.
There were flowers on her grave,
and one girl visited her everyday.
She knew what would happen to her,
if she did what this girl did.
Now that girl,
that visited the grave,
everyday,
runaway.
Away from her fear.
Away from him.
Away from the predator,
who killed,
that little girl,
that walked to school,
everyday.