She sits in a corner, her dirty blond hair shimmers with golden streaks, like rays of sunshine shining through on a cloudy day.
Her legs are pulled up to her chest and her chin is resting upon her crossed arms.
The light is dim and people come for a closer look. Her soft green eyes look at them with pain...a tear escapes the corner of her eye.
She is so young but knows the hardships of life as well as a veteran of war. People say they feel her pain as they look at her face.
Her skin is clean and tan, but her forehead is creased with deep lines due to the hours she has spent crying and suffering in the corner.
Her lips are thin and they droop down on the corners.
Her ears have heard more than they should have.
She tells people of her pain, she describes in an unreserved manner all of the horror and yelling she has endured in her short life.
Her eyes become narrow and her jaw stands stiff as her words of anguish roll off her tongue.
Her narrow fingers clench into a tight fist and she closes her eyes to the outside world.
People sit next to her, people try to feel what she is going through, but they know they never can.
People sit with her in her dark corner in the empty room...lost in her world and escaping the battles going on outside.
That girl is me!
By: Lucky to be Irish
