mary bell

she
she ran
with scissors too big
for her small childlike hands
silver and broken
she ran
with scissors too big
for her small childlike hands

bruised bumped and broken
she
she ran
ran from the blue pills
and iron pills
and her mother's hand
ran from the lies
and the goodbyes
and drug induced highs
ran from the sympathies
and little white lies
that grew and fed
and soiled the place
she tried to rest her head
bruised bumped and broken

they called her a killer
a sinner
a media whore
a child gone wrong
and they wanted to even the score
they didn't care about her
missing childhood years
her bedtime fears
only her lack of tears
no remorse
they yelled
and wrote in bold print
a child
a killer
a sinner
a saint
a victim
a murderer
a confused abused child
or hunter of easy prey
which one
which one
which one they say
they called her a killer

free at 23 to live her own lie
she gave birth to a new side
a baby for two lives
taken away
a baby for a baby
drenched in media hate
a baby of a baby
of a baby called waste
now re-born
black and blue phoenix
rising up from
her man made ash
finally
free at 23 to live her own lie

look
look back
on 1968
look back
look
and
see
that

she
she ran
with scissors too big
for her small childlike hands
silver and broken
she ran
with scissors too big
for her small childlike hands