She walks through each day,

Haunted, not by spirits of the departed,

But by ghosts of her former self.

An innocent little girl,

Crying, covered in red rose petals,

As hungry eyes watch from above.

A young woman,

Shaking, broken, and scarred,

While angry eyes pronounce judgment.

A woman alone for the first time,

Still shaken, but free,

And, eyes, once friendly, look away.

She walks through each day,

Haunted, not by spirits of the departed,

But by ghosts of her former self.