Tradition

once there was, and now once more
a child in fear, at hells great door

a preciuos thing now gone again
from his past she can't defend

passed down to him and then to her
this legacy she must now endure

no touch of love to fill perdition
no cure this lurid erudition

a heart held close that none may touch
no other scab could hurt so much

she sits and sifts eternal pain
an endless beach through every grain

no penance paid for venoms lust
no hope of love or chance for trust

gone the dreams of hearth and home
in trade for bruise and broken bone

in vain your love to give her now
for happiness, she knows not how

a wound that ever lies agape
a little girl, the hands of rape