A strike of a hand, that whips it's flesh, as it cuts deep into her worn mesh.
The scars seep deep into her heart that bleed, to be pounded down, and never lead.
Her withered bones, bathed in dirt, as her raw skin blackens through her torn skirt.
She lay there disturbed, just waiting to die, for loving a man that will never try.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, a beauty she was, to trust.
~By MICHAELA.X
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