#WritcoPoemPrompt19
Etch not unto her pliant flesh,
Cruel marks of your monstrous desire,
She bears your atrocities,
With silent rage,

Waiting to unleash her wrath...
A weight that would crush a lesser soul,
But hers is a heart that beats with rage,
A storm brewing, waiting to unfold.

With every wound, a spark ignites,
A fire that burns, a flame that lights,
The darkness where your cruelty resides,
Exposing the monster that hides.

She waits, a tempest, gathering might,
A whirlwind of fury, a reckoning in sight,
For every cruel mark, a reckoning will come,
When she unleashes her wrath, and you are undone.
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