Cracked feet,
Caroused hands,
Blacked skin,
From the scorching sun
Skin the colour of sin
Lips gorged and gullied
From the lack of of Vaseline
Her dreams the smell
Of the perfume of an undertaker
War, refugee
But
She's a beauty in her brokenness
A saint in her misery
She's broke on the outside
But she's hope springing on the inside
My ear can hear
Her thumping heart
Throbbing for existence
She's not just alive
She's is living
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