Beautiful Chaos
Doesn't she look beautiful?
With blood cracking on her lips,
While crystals flow as she weeps
Brightly leaving traces on her scrawny cheeks,
Eyes puffed-- lack of sleep for a week
Isn't she ravishingly adorned?
With apparent rope marks on her delicate nape,
Bruises like the purplish color of grape,
Knife marks-- old and new-- layered on her wrists
Calloused hands, dry and clenched fists.
Doesn't she look appealing?
With dried clear saline outlining her face,
Hair that never speaks of glory nor grace
Bloodshot eyes blankly staring at the ceiling,
Body laying flat on the coffee-stained flooring.
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