Through A Different Set Of Eyes

I watch through the window,
I can feel her screams
run down my spine,
The look of terror
in the little girls eyes,

As the fists swing,
I cringe in the corner,
not knowing when it will happen,
when the one hit will come,
the hit that will take her life,

Through a different set of eyes,
i watch through the window,
as the little girl cries for help,
no one will help her,
and no one cares,
except for when i look through
the window with
a different set of eyes

I am sick of the torture,
and when i am about
to pick up the phone
i realize it is too late,
i can already hear the sirens
coming to take the mother away
from the dead little girl in a pool
of blood on her soft little bed,

As her funeral goes on,
no one goes to speak,
except for the
different set of eyes coming from above,
As the angel flies away with the poor little girl
from across the way,
finally she is happy and
finally she is free
all because of the angel with a different set of eyes