Whirling and Twirling

She twirls on the soft ground,

Waiting for the rain to come.

The sun is out and warm,

It's time to play and run.

Puddles are prefered,

Rosy cheeks, ruffled dress.

Floweres always smell sweet.

Who would think? Who would guess?

That this little angel,

This sweet little joy,

Is beaten and battered,

Like an unwanted toy.

Whirling and twirling in one spot,

No one ever knows,

That she hides the evidence,

Beneith her soft, pink clothes.

Each night she returns,

To the same hell,

Each day, if she's seen,

Claims that she fell.

The greatest of secrets,

Comes with a heavy weight,

And no one will ever know.

Until it is too late.