The making of a doctor

Yesterday; She said her older cousin touched her, in a naughty way, And his father too, Mummy smacked her on the lips, And sternly said, "good girls don't tell lies".

Today; While Mummy was at Choir practice, Uncle came to her room, again, Just an hour after his son, unknown to him, He smiled at her, And asked, "Do you still want me to pay your fees?"

Monday; She walked funny to school, Remembering to smile With each painful step, thinking to herself, "if I'm a good girl, Uncle will pay my fees, Then I can become a doctor, Then Mummy will believe me; Everyone believes doctors" That made her smile...

This week's poem comes from an unrepentant cynic who was recently diagnosed with a debilitating case of sarcasm, a blogger disturbed by the account and logic of a molested child.