Born of beauty, elegance, grace,
Branded by flaws, upon her face.
Chastised, by all the wrong doers,
She, simply, could not maneuver;
Around the evil words they spilled,
Heartache pierced her, left her chilled.
Whispered voices, in the night,
Horrid rumors, became her plight;
Hidden behind doors, she grew old, alone,
Cast away, twas the first pebble, thrown.
Which grew to a boulder, to her dismay,
Beauty, no longer in this place, could stay;
She’d steal away, under the midnight sun,
Be gone, before morning broke, begun.
Never again, allowing them to misconstrue,
She left no trace, of the life she once knew.
November Writing Prompts – Born of Beauty
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