You looked at her
and you saw Independence.
The image she had made
Not the one she believed.
But the paint only lasted so long
Bit by bit it chipped
Away the image flew
Then she also had to leave
Because you couldn't see the real her
The one that is broken and cracked
Afraid to show what she lacked.
She lacked a voice
A common gift given to all
Or at least most.
Because she was the minority
The one in one hundred
Who would never get that voice back.
It was lost in transit
Not seen as worth finding she was put on this earth with out it.
Shouldn't hurt her should it?
How much pain can one lost voice cause this child?
I will tell you how much.
Enough to make getting out of bed a daily battle.
Enough to make her cry her self to sleep
Because she doesn't feel As though she is worthy.
Worthy of a life
Worthy of success
And love
And happiness.
Worthy of being allowed to express herself.
But she isn't.
Dare she be mocked
Or laughed at
Or avoided at all costs.
Because who wants to watch some one go through that?
Why was she born this way?
Born to be tortured
Born
To have a stutter.
