She painted her lips red and face pink.
Just the way they like it.
They make her evening bread
They make her winter blanket.
Wide and wider, her wings itched to soar
High into infinity.
They were lured into the halo between her legs,
Yet, wise enough she was
To breathe out the last whit of sanity
Through her skin that once again
Was an alien to her soul.
She plugged a smile to her lips
Planked a sway to her hips.
A tag that crowned her
‘The queen of nights’
But the truth is
It was rape at her own consent.
With that truth tied down her chest
She put on her heels
To take the walk of shame