Down the dead beaten road, a disused chaise
A breeze brings her scent, wafts of sobs
You can feel her silent throes, a lamb running from foes
But she endures, spurting her pleas, in the rain
Broken petals of rose is her once envious pose
Like the salt she melts under his brutal belts
In the corner she gathers her lace, all of her #grace
Yet her darn courage simmers, warming all
You will know the scent of a brutalized rose
It is the wail of the mendicant ewe
You’ll feel it, if she’s by you
And hear her voiceless pain
Plucked by brutal hands, thrown outside
And a handful of merciless slaps besides
Still, her heart knows music, echoes of love
Though forgotten in the rain, this pleasant rose
Written by: Jonathan Ezeanochie
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson