Intervention (Lonely Girl's Abused)

She tried to warn her teachers,
She tried to warn her friends;
She tried to let the truth escape
-- to them it made no sense.

Her father would abuse her every day and every night;
She didn't want to tell a soul
and cause another fight.

Her dad said she deserved it
-- she started to believe
that she was really a bad girl
who needed to be beat.

It is the common story
that we accept as a tale
-- a tale of pain, a tale of hate;
A tale where help arrives too late.

Her father had his methods
to punish her bad deeds;
Her father said the discipline is all she ever needs.

She felt she was a demon
-- That she was her own ghost;
she felt that every kick and hit
was his idea of love.

And yet that other side of her
would tell her that he's wrong;
That he was telling her all lies
-- or had been all along...

Her father was a hero
-- and yet he was so cruel;
She didn't know which one to pick,
or even which was true.

She dreads the long ride home
as she sits on the large bus;
kids look at her and walk away
-- an image of disgust.

A Lonely Girl with bruises
from her thighs up to her breasts;
She never really had a summer
where she got to rest.

She's learned to hold her breath so well
for long period's of time...
As her father pushed her in the tub
... her life was on the line.

Her fake friend's didn't trust her
when she said she was abused.
And she knew that she was too shy
to even show a bruise.

When she gained the strength to tell
her one friend whom she loved the most,
her friend went down to the office
... and the office called her home.

Her father denied and laughed it off,
there was no further look;
But it seemed just that one call
was all the influence it took.

A normal ride back to her house
-- prepared to be hit hard;
The Lonely Girl did not expect
to not make it that far.

she took the four steps off the bus and looked up at the sky;
she hoped for all the strength she'd need to make it through the night.

She walked up all the stairs;
six-- that led to the front door.
She'd never thought he'd hurt her
more than he hurt her before.

She stuck her key inside the lock;
"It's open... that's odd?" she thought.
Slowly she pushed the door ajar,
and felt a pain inside her heart.

She looked down where she's standing,
standing on a blood-stained floor;
...her heart was flowing freely;
she hurt more now than before.

Standing in her blood-- she's dying;
She looks up to see a gun.
Held by her abusive father
... with a smile on.

Yet, oddly, she saw compassion,
as she looked into his eyes
-- and crumpled down onto the floor
struggling to hold onto life.

Her father stood above her,
over his own dying daughter,
with the bullet from his gun
lodged inside his daughter's heart.

The pain was so unbearable
-- the worst she'd ever felt
it was not the bullet that had killed her
but her father's cold betrayal.

And on the blood-stained floor she died
-- not a tiny drop of life...
and the daughter's father still stood there
his daughter's eyes so cold... so lost...
...so lonely...