THE TRAUMATIZED LADY

A Poem by Elshaddai

Morden women in trauma's wake.

*THE TRAUMATIZED LADY*

She descends in hearts, with honey dripping lips.
She comes clad in allure, with money's shadow in her tongue.
Catwalk, bear walk, everything she tries, enticing and beautiful like a night whisps.
In her head space desire rages, memories of the life she never had adding weight.
Her eyes sparkle in money's wake, and so the ancestors bed her.
She is a victim of circumstance, losing track of body count from eight.
What she searches for , only she knows, but its a needle in hay's stack.

With a skin hardened by poverty, her hair stands still in August winds.
She holds fast to her properties, wishing for more satisfaction in her mind.
In the sun she dresses to kill, hiding shame and trauma in shaped cloths , so she hopes they catch any overspill.

In the night's silence, she sleeps on depression, anxiety's blankets too thin to cover her fears.
She avoids serious conversations, because they uncover her repressions.
Give her true love, her hollow heart strikes chords that play tears.

The morden lady, in resemblance, a queen of spades.
Shady and dark, she doesn't hesitate so long she is called queen.
Marriages she has slain, hearts she has broken.
A slay queen, she is hailed from every pub, norms and traditions bowing to her cause.
From darkness's stage she is hailed, and in her voice you can tell she is ale'd.

She dances in fire, shadows of torment and hate igniting the flames.
Reincarnated the cycle boomerangs, so she walks with ears too heavy to listen,
She walks too blind to see, rings dangling with initiation bands.
Lashes overcast with tomorrow's oblivion.

By Elshaddai
14/03/26