The first man she loved was a loser,
the second pumped a fortune in his arm
the third one was OK
but her kids got in the way.
All the rest seemed determined to abuse her,
she always fell for that rough macho charm.

Swallowed, with her children, by the system,
abandoned, isolated and alone
her sanity unbound
in a home above the ground.
Social wokers in self - righteous  wisdom
took her children and the only hope she had

Old before she reached the age of thirty,
Her dreams, her looks were both a long time gone.
She tried to turn things round
but plans just hit the ground
then every love she found made her feel dirty
and she could see no cause to carry on.

Arrested walking naked in a garden,
she lost her clothes, her dignity, her mind,
she recalled every promise
made by men she thought were honest,
she needed a way to lift the burden
but deeper lonliness was all she found.

The world shuns those who need a haven,
nobody has time just to be kind.
So the weak must fall
while the strong take all.
To those who have more will be given
while those who only give fall behind.

She painted her self portrait on the concrete
in vivid reds and mellow, pink skin tones.
Falling was a dream,
her death song a silent scream.
Now last last her tragedy is complete,
a work of art in shattered flesh and bones.

Creative Commons: attrib, non-commercial, no derivs