As She sit’s upon Her swing
swinging back and forth alone,
She thinks of tears and sadness
and from Her lip’s escape a moan.

She sighs those deep felt sighs
the kind that reflect what’s in Her soul,
and She steadily keeps swinging
as if She had a goal.

Her constant sorrow Her companion
She knows no other life,
She has forgotten how to smile
anticipating strife.

Such a pitiful thing to see
Someone so ravished by Her breath,
swinging and swinging chains creeking
as She longs to repose in death.

Her constant sorrow in Her eyes
as She see’s Him from afar,
Here He comes that Human beast
speeding in that little beat up car.

And slowly She Walks into Her prison
shivering as She loathes Her very World,
Her constant sorrow aging Her lost soul
forgetting, She’s just a tiny little girl.