They found me under a rock,
my body beaten and bruised.
My bones shattered,
from the brass knuckles they used.
They once told me i was beautiful,
eyes like sparkling stars,
legs that glisten in their glory.
That was before my eyes
were black and blue,
and before my legs had poor tissue.
When they found me under the rock,
my face was tear stained,
black lies tattood from my eyes,
but my body was cold.
Cold and alone.
They told my parents i was a victim,
the report showed that i hardley fought back,
that i hardly could.
I was smothered to death.
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