She scream years of brutal torture
Bars, pipes and drills sunk into her skin.
Her blood it sort and sucked and soiled,
the totality of her existence with polluted fragrance
Of a pungent smell like a defied virgin, left for dead.

Fumes of her ruin allure the atmosphere 
Soot soothes sores of past and present plaques
Defying the chastity of rain or air or a blissful breathe
As she stares at the world gesturing for help.

But like Saul in Stephen's martyr story
They're watching like a barking dog that cannot bite
As she lets out weepings of a woman in travail.
For soot now plunge deep into the sanctity of her soul.

No one knows what's coming next, 
But her gloomy clouds foretell impending woes.

- Lazarus, LeeleeBari Suanu

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