The story of a girl growing up in an abusive family...just a random little idea I came up with.
The other children take their first steps,
And murmer their first words,
Garbled between incoherant cries.
The other children fall asleep on their mothers' laps,
And cling to her breasts as they dream,
But she is not like other children,
As she pulls herself across the room on her tummy.
The only words she knows are the angry ones
That she hears every day when the slaps come.
When she walks, it is not because of the support of her parents.
It is because, even as young as she is,
She knows that the sooner she takes her first steps,
She can run away.