Scarred

The fears of our untold pain, still cries of foretold tales, that lingers tranquility in our hearts.

With little drops of the blood slashing false cuts to our wounds.

We're raped of our virginity, while given false hope to our vitality.

Still the shattered pieces of our religions, remain a folklore to our delusions.

The begs for our cheer, a chaste ritual from our past, as the haunts of our memories still tell stories we long to forget.

Our blood stained skirts, a console to our tears, its memorial a cheer to our cares.

We wanted nothing but the vengeance to be free from the zeal like stained sheets in our souls.

And as our depressed hearts fades like the wind, the brutality of our wombs, a stale consult to our wounds.

They forced balls in our court, while their hands rests on our chest, as they chastise our struggles.

They consumed our weakness, our nights a restless slumber, as the tortures of the remembrance are sealed to our thoughts, its trigger; a sore to the mud.

The frostbites to our future, leaving goosebumps to our skin, their evil deeds still blind to the wind.

Our sufferings; a slow death to our shame, their tame a far cry to their jail.

We wanted nothing but their grace, but the taser of doom, was a taste to their groom.

#sad_vibes