6 To 8 Rag Doll
Beautiful at one time, now withering in sorrow, tears, and hope. She shrugs, as
she moved her black hair letting it hang over her shoulder feeling a tremor of
trepidation. She gazes at her reflection in the mirror tracing the bruises around
her face. Her eyes welled with tears wondering what she ever saw in him, how
easy would it be like to run away; trying to ease her discomfort? All she wanted
was the perfect married life, instead beaten like a ragdoll, a victim in pain.
10/25/2017
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment