That woman again.
She stood there.
There where I was her.
Where I stood before.
She falls with stiff feet,
her feat in defeat.
He did it again, he did it neat.
It is not about her
but him.
She crawls slowly,
brushes off her whim.
Again, I enrage,
with her forage,
bandage her wounded feet
with courage.
Pari
Figment 