Any Other Girl
folder
Poetry › Free Verse
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
529
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Poetry › Free Verse
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
529
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of poetry. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Any Other Girl
I knew a girl
A sweet little person,
Whose story shook the world.
She had a pleasant little smile,
And kind chestnut eyes,
Which she believed were full of lies.
She always laughed,
She never cried,
She held those feelings deep inside.
Her blonde curly hair,
That bounced up and down,
Were orange with blood as her mother came around.
Her pink dress,
With frills and lace,
Became red and pale like her face.
Her white tight stockings,
That came up to her knees,
Were cut severly in her state of misery.
She was dead.
All were aware.
As they shoved her in the truck,
With the deepest despair.
Sirens blurred,
And all was quiet,
As we waited for the doctor's verdict.
She killed herself,
The doctors said,
With the deepest, palest, darkest dread.
All was quiet once again,
As she lay in her coffin, fast asleep,
People coming by only to weep.
I heard her relatives.
Who could not?
As they spoke of her with utter disgust.
What did she gain? They said with contempt.
As they peered down at her coffin,
Her once shining face now pale and rotten.
Nothing. I mutter.
They looked at me, mouths agaped,
As I tell them the story of how she was raped.
A sweet little person,
Whose story shook the world.
She had a pleasant little smile,
And kind chestnut eyes,
Which she believed were full of lies.
She always laughed,
She never cried,
She held those feelings deep inside.
Her blonde curly hair,
That bounced up and down,
Were orange with blood as her mother came around.
Her pink dress,
With frills and lace,
Became red and pale like her face.
Her white tight stockings,
That came up to her knees,
Were cut severly in her state of misery.
She was dead.
All were aware.
As they shoved her in the truck,
With the deepest despair.
Sirens blurred,
And all was quiet,
As we waited for the doctor's verdict.
She killed herself,
The doctors said,
With the deepest, palest, darkest dread.
All was quiet once again,
As she lay in her coffin, fast asleep,
People coming by only to weep.
I heard her relatives.
Who could not?
As they spoke of her with utter disgust.
What did she gain? They said with contempt.
As they peered down at her coffin,
Her once shining face now pale and rotten.
Nothing. I mutter.
They looked at me, mouths agaped,
As I tell them the story of how she was raped.