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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 20, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 20, 2017



All her life
she has been abused 
Trod the streets 
In hole filled shoes 
Cuts on her feet 
Her toes protrude 
Her heart is heavy 
her mood subdued 

All she wanted 
Was to be met with love 
For her troubles
returned in blood
though sullen eyes 
these streets she will
continue to trudge
her mind not knowing 
that of love 

Days and nights 
through pouring rain
she tries to ascertain 
and forgot about
her staving pain 
that’s like a blade 
that cuts her brain 
but doesn’t end her 
stomach pains 
With dry cracked lips 
no water settles 
instead like rust 
it rusts like metal 
and flakes and fettles
her throat sore 
it stings like nettles

cuddled, huddled 
in the dark 
locked inside 
the cold dark park 
her eyes dim 
her future stark

she lays down a weary head 
the night her covers 
the grass her bed 
and deep within her tiny mind 
some sanctity she tries to find
but eludes her reach 
as if she is blind

the cold night
starts to take its toll
she’s almost like a living doll 
her limbs are weak 
from lack of food 
no longer move
body subdued
the will to live 
hers no longer 
to choose 
The breath of life 
now leaves her side 
dim lit eyes 
fade and die 
no longer pry 
as much as she 
would like to try 
one lone tear slips 
from her eyes 
slips down her cheek 
and lies by her side 

And in her dying state 
her mind only knowing hate 
lost love left at the rusty gate 
closed forever
locked and chained 
her life ebbs away
her eyes never to see 
another day  

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