The crushed flower


What started out as white and gold,

Ended with black, blue and stories untold,

She had dreamt of a time when she’d be a bride,

But ended up with scars and no place to hide.

A flower from a garden bright,

Lovelier than the stars at night,

The apple of her parents eyes’,

She was an angel, caught in a web of lies.

She was plucked from her garden way too young,

Blinded by the words a devil sung

Promises, dreams, love and more,

Her innocent heart bewitched and sore

From need, to be happy, loved and adored,

To be the bride in silk, pearls and gold.

She pictured her children running wild,

A happy life, with problems mild.

Days, weeks and months pass by,

The devil slowly sheds his disguise,

She bleeds tears at this woeful sight,

Fades away slowly, her usual happy light.

She had thought love to…

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