With eyes scratched by blood, looked into dark
The little child that walked alone in woods,
Her ears hurt much as she heard the dogs bark;
She saw her mother silhouetted in interludes,

Every direct look she took brought her death,
To escape the darkness she closed her eyes,
Walked along and cried out with every breath,
Kinetically clefts of wood and sounds of flies

Led her way, but she knew not where it led,
Intermingled voices of her mother and her father
With authoritative tones from which she fled,
Now sounded sweeter but she still moved further.