SHADIYAHandSHIBAGAL

Porcelain doll with tangled hair, People pass or stop and stare, Her cotton clothes are ripped and torn, Her parents regret the day she was born, Her plastic heart has melted down, Her stunning smile, a perfect frown, Her shining future, a blackened road, Her flowing words, a fucked up code. Once glowing eyes, now dark and dead, And voices scream inside her head, A falling rain of acid tears, Mirrors reflecting all her fears, A fire raging through her veins, Drugs to reduce all her pains, Her porcelain skin, now scarred and bruised, Her staggering beauty, now gone and used. A foreign beauty, now buried alone, A cryptic place