Sara

This is not a fairy tale
With princesses getting married.
This is not the Bible in verse
With a god spitting fire.

It's the everyday story
With a girl's name.
A story without words
Because misery doesn't speak.

The hardest part was going home
What time is it, where are you,
You're almost always late
Why do you do it and not call.

You have a strange look,
You haven't smoked anything.
Good heavens, the trouble that will arise
If he hears us and wakes up.

The walls of our city should
Be adorned with photos of that animal
Who with a knife in hand managed to corner her
In any wasteland or dark doorway.

If you think crying will fix it
You're going to tell me woman to woman.
They don't want to think about the first offense
And when the second one comes, they decide to act.

The neighbor is the one who contacts
A childhood friend.
The pesetas she scrapes together,
The savings she kept.

It's better if he doesn't know anything
It's just a weekend.
You say you're camping,
That you'll be home on Sunday.

The first time she flew on a plane,
From the plane to the hotel and from there to the hospital.
She may never forget
And on Sunday at ten she'll return with dad.