I have a story—I hope you will listen.
There’s a little girl across that bridge, her fists clenched tight.
A lone survivor of the cruelty of Earth.
Her mama and baba were taken when she was still young.
Tattered clothes, a shoe without a sole.
The beating organ in her chest aches, heavy with resentment toward all that lives.
It abandoned her when she was only eight.
Fending for herself with nothing but a voice or maybe it’s something more, a weapon only the brave can hold.
At the top of her lungs, “Set me free,” she cried.
Oh, my dear,
when all is gone, what remains?
