 |
|
|
I weep alone.
My powdered skin and jet black hair speak otherwise, but it痴 true. Goth miniskirt, leather, stiletto heels, bustier all tout defiance. I知 scared. Fishnet stockings, painted lips, dark clubs. Why? I wear a tattoo, a brand that marks me as sold. To whom? At what price? I知 hollow, a fraud.
And it hurts so much.
I weep alone.
Drunk, stoned. In the arms of faceless men who buy what I need. Yes, I sleep with them. Whatever they want. I知 only fifteen. It doesn稚 matter. I know what I知 good for. Nothing! Was it always this way? Was I conceived in torment? I知 shattered by my limited worth.
And it hurts so much.
I weep alone.
I owned a stuffed unicorn, pink with purple glitter. It was stolen. I woke up spattered with vomit, wrapped in bloody sheets and it was gone. All I had. I shiver, always cold. Tamar has played the whore! Get up! Burn her! I deserve no less. Nobody wants to help.
And it hurts so much.
I weep alone.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
|
|
|
