Antisocial oceans drown wives due to abusive kings.
Beehives are archived in their blissful, yet sorrowful eyes.
The kings are in denial : “No, we do not hit our wives.”
The kings say that the devil keeps beating their wives.
The kings say that the devil keeps beating their wives.
Cherry lip balm remained on her lips.
Extensive kissing, his hissing hampers
her hesitant breathing.
Smudging the makeup, he made her
a clown with running tears.
Her throat burnt through all her screaming,
He had no sense, she just chose to submit.
He enslaved, he inscribed “POWER” on her lips.
Motherly love’s sullenly tucked into pants of jealousy.
Stickers float, flicker, twinkle and floresce when she sleeps.
His faces are portrayed on the lining of her mind, when she sleeps.
Her tears make pillows sorrowful — when she sleeps.
Diminished in existence, her slit wrists smears blood on bed sheets.
Withering slowly, withering wholesomely.
“RAPE” was dented on her inner thigh as she died that night