It could be any girl who only turned twelve
Once upon a time it was you me and others
Growing up to the age of understanding things
Many girls have not seen the treasures we have
Flipping away the lunar to measure the days
Teeming as a chubby rosy cheeks piggy bank
A privilege to be prized at
……Twelve Years Old
In the mirage of the blistering sun she scrubs
A mountain of pots left for her to clean and store
Unable to school for the chores and be a girl child
Saddled with her siblings that she must nurse too
Snatched from her so early her rights to be alive
No ponytails fly in the wind as she never dresses
A silver platter of freedom cut
…..Twelve Years Old
No fancy cars drive her parents home from work
They know no place to say they work at but hustle
In rags they make efforts to provide a morsel of chop
What will be clothes for Yuletide they wonder not
Pieces of torn foam line their waterlogged rooms
Eyes of hunger stare at the door in anticipation
A hard life for this gift a child
…. Twelve Years Old


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