Her past was like a flame.
Beautiful yet painful.
Treated like a game.
By the ones who are sinful.
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Everything was perfect.
But no one saw it breaking.
The virus turned it into a defect.
As her heart was filled with longing.
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The smile on her face seems to never erase.
Though forced or genuine, no one sees the difference of it.
Even if battered by a fourth of the human race.
Still believing, taking in hit after hit.
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She moves on, trying to stay strong.
She thought she could run away.
That's where she was wrong.
For it says hello to her night and day.
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She awoken at dawn, touching her tear stained face.
Feeling each stab on her body, mind and heart.
The memory fresh on her mind as time raced.
It felt like her soul was ripped apart.
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Their sneers and snickers embedded in her head.
Their acts of fun beating her up on the inside.
She thought the scars of the past would never heal instead.
But forced to look happy on the outside.
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For a girl who cares, might never care at all.
Someone who receives falsity from a friend.
She stands alone, looking at the fall.
One last time, her patience thinned, it'll be the end.
YOU ARE READING
A Writer's Collection
Short StorySTOP! Good. Now I've got your attention. Open the door. No, not your door. But this door. Not a physical door either. This door is called Story Door. Open it. There is no turning back. Welcome. Didn't say I didn't warn you. -M
