Look at this child; see the hand that strikes her, watch her shoulders wilt, glimpse her diffident plea.

Taste for this child; tire of her insipid fear, sip tentatively others' asperity, become jaded by nausea.

Feel for this child; reach for her in her distance, bounce off her armour, be cut by her latent scars.

Listen to this child; hear her laughter echo and fade, catch the catch in her throat, heed her cry.

For this child become astute. Discover her secret and acknowledge for her the chafe of misplaced guilt.