Abused

Torn-apart by the violent winds of assault; ripped of sanctity,
My soul weeps for her ordeal,
Emotionally disfigured in the flames of forceful penetration; devoid of purity,
My heart cries for the brutal hand she's been dealt,
Her life, in tatters, lie, bruised and traumatized,
Denied of rights which to her legitimately belongs,
Wounded by the spear of inhumanity,
Despised by those from whom healing, she desired, her heart bleeds and her soul cries,
And I can't but ask why, it should be her?

Abandoned in the bonds of penury,
Entrapped within the shackles of savagery,
Her spirit crushed by the impact of dehumanization,
She yearns for a beam of hope, and her soul for the rays of deliverance, wails,
So I'm asking her to give life another chance and look on the bright side,
And to, inspite of her pain, and from the midst of her travail, draw up the waters of healing and optimism,
Look beyond her plights and let go of pessimism,

From the valleys of victimization,
From the dungeons of desecration,
And the prisons of pain,
Her heart cries out,
Her spirit weeps,
And her soul sobs,
And we can't help but listen with ears of sympathy and lend her hands of comfort and shoulders of restoration.