Skin rubbed raw, drenched in hate, there’s a lack of poetry in her prose
This hate never healed, the absence burns her throat, chokes the words
Loathe the day she’s drowning on the thoughts she can’t speak to her
Wounds worn as badges turned to weights
Such beauty only rapes
These are the nights without end, she would say she’s suffered but it has yet to begin
Drained of empathy, she feels nothing
Lie to me
We make time or make excuses still the blame slips away
This Northern hostility, her only gift to give
Past their prime but still were swallowed, she doesn’t want to be saved
In her hair a lifeless flower, in her shattered heart…
Love left to rot
The sight would rend hearts, if she could see what she has become
If she could
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