She looks in the mirror with great hesitation.
Unsure of the future, will she find peace or incarceration?
A beautiful smile with deep defined dimples,
Life for her has never been simple.
She takes a deep breath and a moment to pray.
She has to be strong, there’s no other way.
Her suitcase is packed under the bed.
On top lies her husband, a hole through his head.
She remembers the beating. It was the last.
With a gun in her hand, she remembers the blast.
She takes one last look before leaving the past.
Her first day of freedom….
….Or is it her last?
I submitted the original to a poetry site to receive some feedback. Well, the moderators of the site tore it to shreds! They had nothing positive to say about it. So, upon their advice, I did a rewrite. They preferred this rewrite. (Personally, I like the original and I think this rewrite sucks).
I would love to know what you guys out there think. Thanks