Branded a witch by the same people who were supposed to brand her a child, beaten and battered by the same people who were supposed to nourish her.
Exposed to the veil of the world by people who were supposed to protect her from the world. Learned to protect herself at a tender age, because she realized she was all she had to survive.
Backed away from the world and pushed down into her darkness, cast away like someone with leprosy and left to battle her demons alone.
She wars against the person who brought her into this world and against the world. Traumatized for looking and acting differently.
Her soul weeps because she is left alone, beaten by the rain even while under a shade, all because the shade over her head is leaky. Deprived of her smile, she forces herself to grow up faster than she was supposed to.
Her smile is killed and her happiness is shortened because she sees no reason to be happy as the people who are supposed to be the source of her happiness kill it.
She constantly asks herself questions, about why God allows her to go through such an awful experience as a young child. I thought he said, the little ones are the innocent ones, then why did he allow her to pass through such experiences?
She wishes she could wipe away the pain but the memories keep coming, the trauma of being branded has been one hell of a memory she wishes to forget.