Cradle Of AbuseMature

She sleeps in a death-cradle of abuse,

Closed eyes like bruises brushed by lashes,

Broken heart embedded within a scarred chest,

Wrapped in bloodstained sheets of fear,

Head rests on a web of nightmares,

Lined with dead dreams, abandoned hope,

And a layer of unanswered prayers,

Thin bands of gold bind her like chains,

To a burning cross of buried anger,

The flame suffocating beneath strangled tears,


Crying only makes the pain worse,

Shame won't heal, but harden,

Over her heart and twist it,

Until it cracks and feels nothing,

Except for smothering, overwhelming pain,

And so she lowers her head onto the pillow,

Falls softly, like an angel from heaven,

Into the arms of death.

The End

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