Murdered

I murdered a girl.
I murdered that girl who laughed like there was no end to her happiness. I hurt the girl who believed in people, who thought her loved ones would never hurt. The girl who believed that lost who love her are the ones who will protect her. I murdered her the day I told her, only she can protect herself.

I murdered a girl.
I murdered her faith in older men, those who'd constantly want her for themselves. I slaughtered her need to fight, defend and debate it all out. I figured she'd be safe if she showed ignorance. If she'd kindly walk out without a hint of drama. I was wrong.

I murdered a girl.
I murdered her need to learn from her wounds. What slowly died was the shadow of assurance. I sold to her facts like bad days will end without ever reminding her about the end of good days. I killed the girl who once collected coins, stamps, postcards and friendship bands. She now collects herself and scars.

I murdered a girl.
I murdered that little child in her who wanted to play in her lawn, swing fearlessly, slide down laughing, circle away to glory. It's all dead now. She now plays with fire, swings her moods around, slides down to absolute failure and forms circles with the smoke that she let's out.

I murdered the one girl that could be.
I murdered me.