The Puppeteer That Stole Her
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This is for the women with the broken bones
With the shattered heart and tattered clothes
This is for the women with silent voices
Who made tough choices that were seen as pointless
Victimized, Ignored, Exploited, Unnoticed, Beaten, Scarred, Neglected
Marked.
Marked by the hands that fumbled through her hair and touched her in all the wrong places
Stamped with a man’s pride and joy; Marred
She screamed until her lungs burned inside her
She resisted and cried her heart out to the world
Asking for forgiveness, for the world to treat her kindly
Only to be laughed at, for her innocence now gone
He promised her love, an unforgettable love, a love so passionate
He promised her happiness, a loving and caring family to be born
He promised her his trust, his undeniable trust
He promised her the world
And she gave him everything
She gave him her mind, her body, her soul, her entity because
She loved him
She loved him
Only to be consumed, to be taken under the wings of someone who would only bring her up one time
Kidnapped. Taken from the beautiful world she once knew, turned to blackness in seconds
She would have never known
And even though she was freed from the chains of corruption and depravity
She no longer believed
She continued to regret
She could never forget
The words that slipped from the mouths like the merciless wind
She deserved it. She asked for it. She wanted it.
Not knowing the story behind her booty shorts and v-neck dresses
Failing to understand that she has 3 kids that she comes home to every single day
Putting food on the table, providing them with everything they could ever need
She put aside her feelings, and offered them for a better opportunity
All alone
And she was taken.
She could never forget the day
The day where her own voice had left her
And everything she had ever known had deceived her
For her life was snatched by the hands of a puppeteer
Grown old and fragile
Thrown away
once more
And we the observers and we the people who have knowledge of this
Do not say a single thing, do not move an inch from the comfort of our blessed lives
When your voice could have changed the route that she was destined for
Knowing the signs and observing the lives that she held closely in the palm of her hand
We could have grabbed her hand and told her
You are beautiful
Because after all the doubt she has gone through, after all the false words spoken, after all the lies that were spouted to tear down her brick barrier, her tough interior, she had forgotten
That somewhere, in some place
Someone was waiting for her return
Waiting.