Lydia

Lydia was an only child,

Lonely and filled with curiosity and questions;

About the world and more.

Mum’s gone to work today,

Dad is with the maid singing hymns behind closed doors;

Bored and alone,

She remembered;

Papa said everything was made by God.

She wondered how God created the man, woman, animals and her doll.

 

Tits and bits,

Papa said he was made from dust;

She checked her doll,

It was just wool and cloth;

Papa doesn’t lie,

She looks at Parish;

Their dog;

Is he made of wool?

She pondered.

 

Eeek, blood and stuff I don’t understand,

Lydia said after checking Parish;

Father doesn’t lie,

But there’s no dust anywhere;

Scolds and beatings yesterday;

They said something is wrong with me.

She doesn’t understand, I just wanted to see what was inside.

She said,

With a deep sigh, Lydia slept off.

 

Papa and Mama are nowhere to be found today,

Just her and the maid again;

Bored and alone,

Maybe it is just only humans with the dust.

Just a nick,

I won’t cut deep;

I just want to see,

What’s deep within;

She thought,

There the maid was; asleep with a snore,

A sigh of relief,

No one to stall;

She cut deep and long,

Disappointed and hurt;

It was all blood,

Papa lied, there is no dust.

Dizzy and weak, Lydia was gone.