She Waits


The innocence glosses her eyes
but became poisoned with the sting
of her cries.
She waits,
she is sorrow.
Her skin is beautifully shaded
with the colors purple and yellow.
The markings of her mother,
the losses of her father,
the pain she keeps--
she waits,
she is silent.

Her mouth feels as if it
has been sewn shut with the needles
created by her mother's harsh words.
As the girls are silenced
by the enemies of her mind and soul,
she waits,
she is gone.
The room in which she sleeps
is quiet, the only sound is the
creaking ceiling that holds
her swaying, limp, lifeless
body.
The waiting is done,
the cries are silenced and dry.
Now only a coffin
waits.

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