Trigger Warning: mentions of rape and murder.
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It shouldn't have ended that way.
Her tears were fresh.
Her hands were imprinted with nail marks.
Her wrists were left covered in bruises.
Her sides were black and blue.
Her mouth was left open.
Her legs were left open too.
Red.
Red and painful.
Moments like this make you want to go back.
Make you want to leave everything behind.
To before existence was possible.
Because why?
Who could have done that?
There's no excuses left for the person that lays torn and dead.
The police tape wraps around the building.
Her body still lays there.
Yet to be transferred to a fucking coffin.
The casket will be closed.
Because her last moments were spent in the most anguishing way possible.
And that is anything but beautiful.
And happy.
And memorable.
Death is not beauty.
Especially death like that.
It shouldn't have ended that way.
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YOU ARE READING
Finding Myself I ▽
Poetry"She painted her soul with words and displayed the pain for all to observe." Where a girl is learning how to love herself and the complicated life she lives.
