She slipped into an ice cold realism

Clothed in gossamer veils

Beautiful and fragile enough

To shatter in the chill

Dragged unwillingly down

Trodden under foot

And drained of all blood

She survived the onslaught

But the scars remain.

An inner hurting wound

Wound around her hardened heart

A drought of emotions

Desiccated sentiments

Sucked dry by man’s delusion

A voice hurling abuse

And mental torture.

The voiceless will soon cry out

And slaughter the aggressor

No longer a victim

But a fighter and a winner.

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