The wounds left no marks,
But engraved her tears in her soul.
Her tattered clothes reminded me,
Of the melancholy strain of her life.

Unknown to the very word of happiness,
She crumpled herself down-
in the thorns of scorn.
Pitied, bullied, blamed and accused,
She left no trace of smile to give back.

Her eyes sunken with despair,
Portrayed her pathetic self.
Smoked and rejected she laid down,
Her love to be...