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She's a Girl
The words drown in a deep abyss
Carrying a cloth of hell,
Stealing what’s her’s,
And In a breath it’s gone away.
Useless, the gods whisper,
Murky Hands Beating down the soul they created,
Before it was born anyway.
The dolls waltz in their heads,
Thinking that’s what she’ll be.
A leech with no better job
Than a bed and a baby.
It’s a girl they say,
And sink knee deep,
In a puddle of famine.
A red puddle that holds the killer of the rupees.
Let the echo speak the story of the girl that will never be.
Let the echo slay the life of the love that could never see.
Today, her dolls are torn.
Her teacups are drained.
Yes, she was a girl.
She’d still be one anyway.
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By the way, this is my first poem after a reaaalllyyy long time. Comments?