Her once so vibrant red hair laid lip on the pillow.
The beauty she once was, feel away somewhere unknown.
Like a wilted rose, who's beauty was once so great.
The blood stained sheets lie witness to the horror that had occurred.
And no other life then her own lied silent now.
She gave her soul to save others.
And yet they will never know.
A rape victim..
A martyr..
That dark man, had taken it all from her.
She did it to save others.
Had she not met him, there would have been more.
He called him self an angel.
She was a mother.
A lover to one man.
She was a rose among the thorns.
What will satin do with this fallen rose?
My beautiful wilted rose..
Copyright 2003 Jilley_
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/1838/18436 on Tuesday December 02nd, 2008 02:20 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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