march
Pinch, punch, first of the bunch
to end a life that hadn’t begun
Escaped the pit to a darker distraction,
found a weapon, a silence and then found satisfaction
Wished myself life then ratted the race,
ran 10 miles straight, a place, in this chase
Days and days remained the same,
this shame, this blame, this skin aching pain,
She’s vain? she’d vein, or maybe too plain,
eyes in the mirror never saw her a winner,
but she saw past the rise of a need to be thinner
A cult of vixens that taught strength as no dinner
A sinner? forgive her, she’s just full of fear,
trusted no who applauded when her best parts disappeared
Had every right to say no but never yes,
excluding the time he unzipped her distress
Saw skin, saw blood, sore guts and sore glory,
saw every secret kept and told each one like a story
A moral? unknown. hidden, stolen, lost
the price of life rises but you’ll afford it at what cost?












