abused and bruised,
a life time of being used,
beaten and broken,
pain left unspoken.
no one to come and protect,
just treated as an object.
this thing, being led to slaughter,
not a sister, or a daughter.
her heart turning to stone,
realising she is totally alone.
learning how to survive,
wondering how she stayed alive.
a small whisper starts to surround,
even on the blackest of ground,
an outstretched hand, a piece of rope,
to cling on to, and a rose of hope.
years of no tears, they start to fall,
seeping through every single wall,
starting to unlock the prison bar,
painfully soaking into every scar.
unravelled from behind the disguise
she looks up, into their eyes,
and sees mercy, love and grace,
and collapses into His embrace.
helenblogs.com 