Antidote

38 | she

She was the scar,
the loneliest scar hidden underneath that sleeve.

She was the tree,
the stoutest tree exploited by people oh, so abusive!

She was the rag,
the poorest rag that was taken for granted.

She was the truth,
the painful truth that never was accepted.

She was the pain,
the unbearable pain in her mother's eyes.

She was the poison,
the intoxicated poison of her father's demise.

She was the stain,
the darkest stain in her small-sized shirt.

She was the mud,
the filthy mud resting on the ground; the dirt.

She was the mask,
the unearthly mask so grotesque.

She was the dust,
the speck of dust in her old desk.

She was perfection
the seamless perfection that never did exist.

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