The Girl
Everyone knows the girl, who sits alone in her darkened corner,
Where the wall paper slowly peels downward in curling strands,
Uncovering the cold concrete below.
A girl who’s curved spine hunches over her slender frame
Hiding her face behind a long, black, forest of hair
Draping loosely across her shoulders,
Like a wilted flower
A girl who wears insecurities over her budding features,
as a veil
While she shields herself from human contact
Paralyzed by societies cruel whispers
Compressed by their oppression
Into a mere shadow of herself
A diluted image, faded over time.
They continue to taunt her
As if to test her tolerance
Luring her into their cold, sinful arms
a beast enticing its prey
in vain, they await a climactic outburst of rage
So that their conceited mouths can form new, malicious words
Which engrave themselves into her juvenile mind
And tear into her tender skin, their venomous talk spreading throughout her
veins
Until They demolish every last fragment of hope,
That she still holds close to her warped heart
Every effort, fruitless
Living in the shadow of all humanity
Nature’s irreversible mistake