At seventeen, she closed her heart to all;
refusing ever 'gain to feel the pain
she shut her soul to love - it was the strain
that made it right for her to take the fall.
He was short - handsome - ugly - fat - thin -tall,
He was black - white - MALE: cause of her disdain.
She was his toy, used time and time again for gain -
His! Muffled, none attended to her call...
Her makeup hid the mascara tinted tears
and penciled smiles were drawn anew each day
Which gave illusion of contentment stored,
But look upon her well and see the years
in cracks defining broken vase of clay;
The net allows her to remain ignored.
Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis
Leslie Alexis
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/just-seventeen-petrachan-sonnet/
