She
Who carved your features?
Stone not clay.
Crafted; moulded
Beautiful
Grotesque
Complex
They washed
Blood cleared
Bare bodied
But it was you
who chose
to wear crimson.
I saw.
You laid
almost innocent
within a cradle of leather
the carved out animal carcass
your second womb
Cast aside
by vengeful hands
as they spit venom
"daughter"
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