Battered Doll

A scarlet dress for blood spilt

ripped blouse for flesh marred.

Ladders in the stockings,

a rung for every blow landed.


Scuffed shoes from hard kicks

bruise gorged eyes permanently closed


Burning tears were scant warmth 

against a chill from ugly ones

Lipstick smudges on her chin

to nullify all the beauty.


Of purest cream skin,

from days of feminine joy 

telling once upon a time 

there was an angle


but now a battered doll.


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