Good Girl

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A fire burns behind her eyes,

a fire of heat and scorn.

She looks at me with those pale blue eyes

all hope has been forlorn.

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She has no mother or father

and her siblings are all dead.

She has no home, no country,

and no path with which to tread.

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Hatred burrows deep inside her

and tears out all regret.

Any love she might have felt

is gone without a fret.

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She is the bitter vengeance,

a punishment they say.

An inevitable death

on whom pleas will not sway.

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When she decides to take up arms

one day when she is older,

few can possibly deny

how righteous is her fervor.

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She is a product of her time,

a creation not intended,

but with such fire burning,

how can we ever mend it?

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A gentle hand, a warm heart,

these things can take some time.

But without patience she’ll run

headlong to some crime

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Against her own people

or strangers, she will fight

because fire burns the brightest

when good kindling sets alight.

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