She may be a girl on the outside,

Seeming to be less than what's really there.

But in truth she is a woman,

Hardened by the cruel wear and tear.



Observe her closely.

Even if only an hour.

The way she carries herself,

The way she never cowers.



She's roughened from within,

Calloused deep inside her darkened soul.

Battle scars from trudging on weakened legs,

Such as those of a newborn foal.



Listen to her voice,

Sweet as summer honey.

Golden like a song bird,

But she wouldn't take the money.



She'll listen to your problems,

For ages, she'll never tire.

But she will not show you hers,

They're burning hotter than a fire.



She doesn't lose her temper,

Will not squabble, scream, or harm.

Violence has no hold on her,

Perhaps, her greatest charm.



She's seen the game be played,

But cannot comprehend.

It's only the beginning,

And still, she's praying for the end.



She escaped the wrath,

Of World War Three.

But watch your tongue,

Don't be quick to label her "free".



You wouldn't know it,

But she's losing this war.

It's holding her like a wound up vice,

Wrenching her to the core.



You think it's all a joke,

Unable to grip the reality at hand.

Too many disbelievers,

We've got to take a stand!



She won't tell you her story,

All you know is she seeks shelter.

You don't know she has two fathers,

Or that they're the ones who held her.



In the night she whimpers close to silent,

You pretend you cannot hear.

Days later you try to work her,

Sit with her patiently at a pier.



But she will not budge,

Not until she's in the clear.

You know that she's appreciative,

Great-full to be here.



Minding her p's and q's is what she aims to do.

Her mouth hardly twitching,

But her eyes and soul shout weights,

And all they speak is true.



Uganda, once her home,

Now nothing more than a battleground.

When she broke away,

A life of pain was all she found.



She could not turn away,

Could not ignore the news each day.

The letters few and far between,

Her ties beginning to fray.



They write her letters,

About their life of angst and torture.

They do their best to stay positive,

But theres only so much they can endure.



She dreams of peace and love.

She knows what we'd become,

Wrapped inside a world where humanity,

Reigns as number one.



For now she keeps them all locked up,

Inside her strengthened heart.

For if she voiced her hope for life,

It'd surely be ripped apart.



You ask her what her age is,

The one thing that you must know.

When she answers however,

Her voice is soft yet low.



You gasp in sheer amazement,

That a child could be so strong.

You will your brain to process,

To evaluate all that is wrong.



How could it be,

That she's only thirteen?

Corruption knows no age limit,

How could we not have seen?



A salted drop,

A tear rolls down her face.

Reluctantly, you wipe it away.

All the while wishing,

That you could take her place.