The little girl was always a victim,
To the constant headaches she got;
Her father an owner of altruism,
But not really as his daughter was forgot.

Her mother was worried,
But she couldn't consult a doctor;
For she would be caught red handed,
If she were to spend hospital fees on their daughter.

"It's a simple headache",
He would say;
"Take a pill wrapped in a cake,
For she would be able to keep it at throat's bay."

The girl felt her head was bursting,
With all this aching in her head;
Someone playing drums and frosting,
With which she hit the post of her bed.

The child writhed in pain,
Her father yet refusing to visit a doctor;
Her mother now brewing with silent disdain,
But not saying anything in fear.

This poor girl finally bid a goodbye,
To the loved ones and the world;
From all the headache she suffered to die,
She was taken away whirled.

Mother spent rest of her life crying,
Waiting for the day she would attain peace;
Although knowing till the day she would be dying,
Her life would be a huge abyss.

"The girl died of a brain tumour,"
A doctor had said the day she died;
"It was growing day by day faster,
She could have been saved if she was consulted."

The father was too proud,
To let others know his sadness;
For he was always heard to be said,
"It was just a head sickness."

©VioletEden