My little heart keeps asking me “why?”

I hear her tiny voice in the quiet early morning hours but I have no answer for her.

 

She has stayed up all night again.

Thinking about the past, feeling the pain and sorrow of the now.

 

She has fallen into a deep dark pit,

Her little voice echoing off the steep, cold sides.

 

I keep reaching out to her but her tiny hands

Have not the strength to hold on.

 

So she sinks back to the bottom and

Remains in sorrow and darkness.

 

It is a shame to witness this. She used to be such

A happy little thing,

 

Always positive, always trusting.

Albeit, sometimes a bit too naive for her own good,

 

But it was a naiveté not based on stupidity or ignorance but

One based on a choice to trust and believe in spite of the red flags not to.

 

I am afraid for her, she is weak and there are

Beasts down there in the darkness.

 

Beasts who lie to her,

Who tell her she is not good enough, that she is unlovable and a fool.

 

They sneak in while she sleeps and

Whisper doubts in her ear.

 

I keep trying to tell her to be strong and not listen to their lies,

But I don’t think she can hear me yet.

 

So I wait on the edge of the pit

With an open mind and open hand to catch her the next time she climbs to within my reach.

 

I don’t mind waiting because I know she will try again soon in spite of the pain and sorrow.

I have faith in her – she is not a quitter.

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