who is she she with the charcoal colored wet lips mascara smeared round hips
she with the torn stockings her bra strap faltering just over her shoulder smile that could be a frown scornful lips mocking
she can't see her beauty the pain leaves her alone she finds friends in screwing gives herself to anyone who'll take her home
she with the bruises deeper than skin deeper than any eyes would care to begin to see
she is someone’s daughter someone’s sister someone’s mother someone’s friend everyone’s lover
she smites the pain with rough lips and kisses in dark alleyways day old stubble in strange rooms brutal unforgiving thrusts she stabs at her heart, everyday everyday
she who doesn’t cry but inside she dies
she slaughters her existence with latex cigarette smoke faces with no names friendly smiles with much to gain
she who I want so badly to heal
but she is nothing without the pain it makes her real it fills her cup gives her purpose the only thing she truly feels
and life for her would not be the same with out mutilating her soul to realize her purpose