Will You Hurt My Heart?

So young and innocent, still small and naive,
Dreaming of a Prince Charming who’ll sweep her off her feet
Drawing hearts on paper with boy’s names scribbled there,
With a hope in her heart as she combs her hair,
She’s growing older, I find it weird,
It used to be monsters in the closet were all that she feared,
Now, I find papers strewn across the floor, torn apart,
They have words scribbled on them “Will you hurt my heart?”
Time passes quickly, and I better embrace it,
Spend more time with her, shelter her, but I’ve got to face it,
She’s growing up fast, and time won’t wait,
So I guess I better stop writing, lest I be too late.

~Bri~