NATASHA

Her life was bleak.

She had wept all night,

Weak and sprawled,

From her lonely fight.

She had been tortured,

She had been betrayed.

Violated, she has dripped blood,

from the scars,

that do not seem to fade.

She's Just a girl,

A flower, in the pond.

Everyday, to her, is a fight,

to break up her illusions, her heavy bonds.

She has been forced to love,

and forced to hate.

Forced to live, her lonely fate.

She lives alone, her head held high

Pretending it's over.

But, why did it have to be her?

Why did she have numbered days?

She trods on knowing-not,

With a painted smile, upon her face.

The struggler gives up.....

loses all hope.

She has been punished,

yet,

she cries no more.