Was I ever beautiful?


Encased in bronze,

I became a masterpiece.

Death of a child?

A cheating husband?

Only their minds can rush the truth.

My screams are silent and eternal.

The pain immaculate and perpetual.

What am I to them?!

The rain cries on me now—

tears I think I deserve.

My eyes trapped behind cold hands.

If by chance they can hear me,

“Was I ever beautiful?”

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