#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.

When she does break,
It is with a cold,
Vicious,
And calculated
Detachment.
The kind that makes
Your insides shudder
And squirm
As your mind freezes over.

Hell hath no fury
Like a woman scorned....