her skin is grim and eyes dull,
colorless gray,
a swirling storm yet so lifeless,
her lips are taken away,
who is she to have a right to speak?
they take and they take and they take,
gone is her virginity,
gone is her voice,
gone is her joy.
the glow of her skin is no longer,
instead replaced with a constant pale cream,
a color of one who hates to be exposed for too long.
the shining gleam in her eyes,
now is less than a star at night,
no more light,
just a dark, dull void.
a voice that is now too hoarse,
for it's barely used now,
a soft lullaby her words were,
now are, to her, meaningless.
a nightmare,
a tragedy,
a fire that burned her with each touch,
her skin was in flames only to leave third degree burns all over her,
sticking like they'd never heal,
and leaving mountains upon mountains of scars.
she feared that she would never get her voice back,
or her life,
her happiness.
when would it all return?
she didn't know.
