Sanctioned by her own conscious she harbors her resentment
In the dirty panties and crusted socks she sleeps in each night
They comfort her in her misery and provide another excuse
To curse God for painful truths she feels he bestows on her alone
Each morning she is awakened by the sound of ravens and crows chasing prey
As she rises from the dead and peers out her only window to the world
She sees them as similar victims of circumstance beyond their control
And she prays they find red meat for breakfast…
She brushes the nights mucus from her teeth and then coughs her sorrows
Into the dry sink as she hangs her toothbrush next to her face in the mirror
She combs her hair with black fingernails and saliva
Hell bent on being seen as ugly she conceals her beauty in colors of sin
And whispers on her way out the door and into Hell
“Let the day be damned”
Ted Sheridan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-to-think-i-once-called-her-princess/