As she stood over the sink
tears filling up the stained porcelain
that held every heart break, every insufferable statement that ruptured the very core of her being.
Swimming in waves before her, the agony of living another day in torment bound by simultaneous torture, could there be freedom from this flaking Stone and Copper infused instrument to Grant her soul peace.
not in the least, can this blade and weapon of distruction and liberation change all the evil snares and syllables that broke her down to her knees, knocking the wind from beneath her feet, she pleads
For a new life, a new soul, a fresh start to become something more than broken art. A new mold, something more than shattered fragments of the girl who once was.
Who once lived,
who once loved
who once laughed
who once believed, believed that there was more her life could offer, more crusades to conquer, but no one sees beyond her, flaws she didn't create.
The virginity she didn't take, the bond she didn't break.
she's haunted from the nightmare of his hands, his body forcing it's forbidden selfish anguish upon her helpless womb, now a helpless tomb to the life it couldn't contain, because even her body couldn't bare the pain.
It wasn't her fault, she tells herself over and over praying that these words will newly define her but she still remains.
The girls drained, driven insane streaming tears into porcelain, stained.
©vjwrites87
V