at nineteen she stood, a woman by right
dressed in garbs of white, she steps off
to effectuate her dreams, simply put, to achieve
her soul incandescent, shining the path before her
negligent to the world, its cruelty, its deceit
a sacrificial lamb, setting out to the slaughter

twenty one, not the dream she had envisioned
confused with the dire obstacles littered around
that have battered and beaten her along this journey
she sits underneath gray clouds, resting her jaded mind
the path longer and more incomplete than expected
a wounded soldier, on the path to defeat

twenty three, weeps into the wild air
now she lies in darkness’s dreary realm
wrapped in blackened leather, innocent no longer
her life guarded now, too much pain infiltrated
the heart she once held high, now, left behind
a death row sentence, no parole in sight

twenty four, unearthed itself for her
lost and alone, merely wrapped in rags
a path no longer in sight, fences line the horizon
she sits upon the bleak pavement
absorbed with the contents of life
another homeless, people passing by, trying not to witness

twenty five, bleeds into her universe
a draft of life blows, as cold as the blade
she wields in her freezing hand
slowly without remorse her life
ceases…..
another unmarked grave, in societies blind eye…