By Marcia R. Pinheiro
The devil himself woke her up
His lips were dry; full of dust
Devil whispered her name from inside
Hell was in her
Day and night she walked oppressed;
Sad, lonely, hurt
She faded away like a burnt match
Everyone saw, nobody thought I must
The religious passed far;
All that discourse; just crust
The cops took the scoff
But it was definitely crime
It is rough, violation of human rights
Poor woman: No time to shine.
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