Bartered for
sold by
innocence striped
blood and gore.
Tears
forgotten
beaten from my soul
hands tearing
teeth ripping
I will never grow old.
Passed around
good time girl
a child
no one cares to look beneath the mask
the colored face
drawn to make me an adult.
Opiates to dull the senses
alcohol to feel no pain
dead eyes staring
nothing
but a little whore.
You chortle
watching me
making me beg at your feet.
Degradation
hatred
Abasement
rage
you thought
using me
abusing me
tossing me aside
would be the end of it.
You are going to wish I had died.
Devil is in the details
turns out I am not that easy to kill
your scream of terror
your face
your eyes
dominating my sight
as in slips the knife.
©March 3/20
Picture via Pinterest
Ah, there’s nothing better than a tale where someone who’s been run over gets their revenge. I love it! Great post!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much. I am glad that you enjoyed. 🤓💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
Brilliant. Devil is in the details, I thought of the same thing! You’ve woven it into a great poem. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much. I have bren poking around your blog just dropping in to check. Hope to have time this weekend to give a good read. 🤓💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Jay-lyn 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
We were kind of on the same page today with our take on the prompt! Good one!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Will read yours after finishing getting ready for work. I am really intrigued now.
LikeLiked by 1 person