I take her soft hand in mine.Her face is one that I once knew, but I cannot remember.She looks up at me and I can see it in her eyes.I see all the hatred she's witnessed, and all the pain she's been through.She's only a child, and yet she's so much more.I cannot bare it and I look away, but I feel her gaze. That's when I realize that the little girl is no stranger. I look back at her and it's like looking into a mirror. Is this little girl who I used to be?
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"Those who dance are considered insane by those who cannot hear the music." — George Carlin
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