God told me to hold her.
He didn't say;
"closer than most"
"handle with care"
After all, it is my profession to protect.
But when I saw her,
saw those bright blue eyes...
..and soft blond curls;
I did it like He had said so anyway.
They named her soul
and called it love.
But she was different,
and they didn't like it.
When she was five,
her 'mama' tore that pretty
blonde hair out by the roots and there was nothing I could do.
Because she told me not to.
At ten, her 'daddy' kicked her
down the stairs and out onto the veranda.
Because she was holding hands with a boy.
I caught her as best I could...
...but I could not catch her shattered soul.
Fifteen came by like clockwork,
and the girls were cruel and called her ugly.
They feared her prettiness
so they burned her mind with meanness
and shattered her internal mirror forever.
At eighteen, the boy she loved
took her innocence because he feared it.
Six months later he walked out the door
he never came back.
Twenty came, an