The Greenhorn Soul

A chipper bambino she was,

Whose unsophisticated grin

Could win everybody's heart.

The apple of everyone's eye,

She was indeed a gift of lord.

Alas and alack, coarse minds

Didn't let go of the colleen too.

The hands ought to cuddle her

Ferally tainted that tender bod,

And marred the greenhorn soul.

Anon, amazement in teeny eyes

Was snubbed by globules of tear.

And the Cheshire cat grin on lips

Was s

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wapped to profound pang.

What she endured was barbaric.

The childhood meant to jubilate

Ended up as an awful nightmare.

And what left over was a lifetime

To be lived with piqued inner child.

Afterall, the hurt was indeed deep.

Whom to be accused of this sin -

Lewd humans or ephemeral laws?

Let's rise up and raise our sonancy

For the sake of little bundles of joy.

Naivety is to be adored, not abused.