Trenches and trench coats lead a girl astray
Billboards tell the child to never run away.
Farmers and homesteads is all she’s ever known
The family still calls her baby, but my has she grown.
Chaste she stays until the night of her prom
Though all the tales and stories from her mom.
A child was born one February night
She screamed so loud it gave children a fright.
She learns quickly why we marry before birth
When in court she finally finds her worth.
He works at a gas station, and she a store
He whispers in the tiny town “she’s a whore.”
Crying baby, a mothers disdain, the small town talks
The innocent woman takes many walks.
Upon a rock she always cries
Until one day she decides this is where she dies.
Broken, forsaken, and the talk of the town
She’ll never again be that losers clown.
Scribbles a note for all to see
They read the words under her favorite tree.
Upon the stone that adorns her name
Her mother placed a gentle flame.
On her knees she cried that night
Swore she would never give up the fight.
Leave a Reply