Trapped (Poem A Day 12)

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She feels the anxiety build.

Tries breathing deeply.

Her captor thinks her beautiful in this guise;

this painted visage, imposed by charade of ritual.


How did she get here?

Details swirl together.


She has no choice.

It is too late.

She wipes the tears from her eyes, resigned.


Accepting of her cruel fate,

In breathy monotone,

she opens her mouth

and seals her doom.


“I do.”

Created: Apr 12, 2014

Tags: poetry

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