A little girl grown up too fast,
She can no longer pray.
The little girl hates her past,
But swims it off in the bay.
She loves the cool water nipping at her skin,
The numbing cold to ice her pain.
To wash away her sin,
To make fresh droplets of rain.
When the numbing cold subsides,
She feels at peace.
There is nothing now, besides
The wrinkles in her palm, a crease.
The girl exits the bay,
And heads home.
The water calls her to stay,
But she'd rather roam.
For the streets are endless,
Just like her pain,
And she is senseless,
Walking in the rain.
The rain washes the pain away.
