The King

Black ink, write her true story upon her skin.
The white canvas that we are given for this purpose.
Tattoo her from head to toe and throw her to the ravenous lions.
She shall be naked, milky flesh coated in her deranged story.
The beasts could be humane and take time to read her bouts of life.
But high school is the farthest thing from moral humanity.
They peel her skin from her mangled skeleton, blood staining the ivory.
They stretch her flesh to the wall so all can read her pain.
But now that the lowly beings take from their precious lives to learn this poor, frail girls misery.
They mourn from casting her out for so long.
But then the King of beasts comes to his thrown, he see's the scripture on his palace.
With pure fury, rage, and no remorse he tears the girls last memory to creamy ribbons.
He orders the shreds to be burned and all watch as the ink and skin run together into a river of regrets.
All servants eyes turn to their dictator and he grins with praise.
All is forgiven of the King.
Servants love him once again and stay his loyal decipals.
None mourn the girl he stripped of innocence.
Why should their ways change now?
Their King has stolen virtue so many times before.
And so many puddles of sin run with out a tear of belief.
The King is above the law.





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