Four Heavy Strings

She can’t afford a veil, so she simply uses tissue paper
Pretending is better than nothing
It is obvious to see that her bones are easy to unravel
Slow and smooth, like silk ribbons
But each caressing fiber lacerates down to her soul
And it leaves her without protection
Her cracked lips are marked with one word
Slabbed in place with red lipstick
So when she stares in the mirror
She would be reminded to smile
She is trapped, barb wired to the solitary stereotype
Hiding accented words because she wants the raw shame to vanish
But she shows only melancholy fears because her hands are dry and empty
Vacillation does not vanish from her judgement
And tracing back to her blackened hole with no way out    
Owes to the blood stained eye sore that she has metamorphosed into
More than one shadow is casted
Because she is leaving bells to ring on her hanging rope
So that she can die dreaming of a sweet lullaby