She wraps herself all in one rough piece
Away from the universe filled with cruel voices
Beautiful demons and charming dark angels
Smiling their deadly fangs
Her heart is plagued
With endless slaps and stabs
Scorched by the sun
Soaked in the rain
But she is safe in her tattered refuge
The gutter is safer than the estates
The dumpster cooks better meals
Her tattered rags fit better than shimmering apparel
Once beaten, twice shy
She is safe in others’ danger
She has nothing to worry about
Let her worries worry over her
She is not schizophrenic
Because she can still remember
That she is one of those widows
Abused, beaten and deprived of her life.
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