The Acrid Villainy
The face which was her pride.
The beauty which was divine.
The panoramic grace.
The spark in her eyes,
Was as powerful as moonlight.
Seemed like she was predestined.
But then one day, the bellicose fortune took a turn.
When an autophile, abhorred herself.
That acrid fluid not just only burned her face.
But it was the foul reason which destroyed her grace.
With every passing moment
She sundered her own reflection.
With every passing beat of the heart,
she wished to forsake her bod.
Slowly, the holy soul died an awful death.
Screaming out for justice, her spirit left.
And everyone around just sat and watched t happen.
No one raised their voice.
No one took a stand.
Yet again a pure soul died of injustice.
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