She wears attire that fails to flatter,
fancy up her bag of bones.
But no matter, for her allure lies within for him
and those who rush to follow,
with their grubby hands and grubby minds,
for she is nothing more than nothing.
Once done they finger trace the lines
the needle tracks to crook of arm,
the foul evidence of ignoble gain,
their power play of bodies.
And here lies she drugged-up half-dead
mouthing silent hate through lips til soon
Sumana at Poets United has us writing of silence and above is my offering. Cheers Sumana!
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Worldwide Documentaries