There was a man in a suit,
Who you wanted to act like you knew.
His eyes looked kind,
An his voice smooth and fine.
He talked only of things with importance,
And always had a clear stance.
And any women would jump at the opportunity to have his dance,
Or hold his hand if given the chance.
But there was a girl,
Who no one really knows,
She stood in shadows,
As if she was stuck.
But the girl who has hair littered with bows,
Knew the man not very well though,
She knew she was kin with him and knew he had the muscle to make her stop and do what he pleased to the sweet innocent body and make her fragile body collapse when she was struck.
And no one even knew that when she died at 11,
She was not only belonging to the shadows,
But to the man.
And to that man,
She was only,
Bows and beatings.
