The Girl and The Swing

"It's a swing. A swing from Uncle Steve's" her mother said,
Annabelle looked it up and down and round and round,
"Uncle Steve" she thought aloud,
His riddles and songs,
His jokes and puns,
He's gone, he's gone,
But with this swing he's not

"I remember you" she wispered, "I remember you, the fear of my past",
She swung up and down and round and round,
"I was too young" she thought aloud, "you hurt me when I was too young",
His persuasion was now ropes,
His smile so sly was the sound of the creaking wood,
He's gone, he's gone,
But with this swing he's not

"I remember that room" she cried, "The horror and gloom you put me through",
Annabelle swung up and down and round and round,
"Let me go" she thought aloud, "don't get me again, in that ghost of a bed",
Her face turned pale,
She felt a cold hand grab hers,
He's gone, he's gone,
But with this swing he's not

"Come for dinner" her mother yelled, "come for lunch and tea",
Annabelle swung up and down and round and round,
"He told me not to" she thought aloud, "I can't let go of this string",
Her mother came with scissors,
The ropes became weaker and weaker,
He's gone, he's gone,
But with this swing he's not

"It's to swing on and sing a song" Her mother said, "not to go on all day long",
Annabelle swung up and down and round and round,
"I'm still bruised" she thought aloud, "I was too young to be abused",
The string was torn like crinkled notes of money,
Her mother squeeled in the cold January storm,
As she looked down and saw her daughter's dead body.