Left home at the age of fifteen;
Came out to where desert and sky meet.
Lucky she doesn’t live on the streets
Like a bad luck penny or gum spat out,
Or in some house with some guy not known
Slaved, doing things that shouldn’t be told,
Or lying dead in the icy cold
Becoming some news story.
Maybe then you’d see what you’d done to her.
Luckily she was saved from that;
Went down a different route.
Glad she didn’t let you murder her,
Albeit indirectly.
Happier now than she ever has been,
No thanks to you but she thanks you anyway.
Thanks for letting her take the escape route given.
Thanks for letting her leave that day…
I mean, we all know she’d have left again anyway….