Her Stained Life

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« A sad one...»

≈ Her Stained Life ≈

But you see,
This life of hers, isn't such a bore.

Nor a chore.

Her life is strained,
S T A I N E D,
Her energy just overall drained.

There's nothing much for her to do,
She's tried it all to make it S T O P.

To no avail.

She runs
But somehow he always senses a trail.
Always one step behind her
-snapping at her tail.

Until he finally catches her,
And beats her with a nail.

She's still too weak to put up a fight
-she's used all her might
On just running away
From this man's stench of utter decay.
Now she'll have to repeat everything again
-until she has finally escaped his deranged
Manner.
His emotions as unpredictable as the pitter patter pitter
Of the rain.

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A sad poem to get those cogs turning.
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