Fresh painted
were the nails
scratching the pavement
She screamed
The rag which gagged
her mouth
reeked of kerosene
she felt skin breaking
scraping against pavement
cold and wet
She screamed
Calloused hands gripped
and groped her ******* tight
Twisting like screws into wood
All the air left her lungs
Trembling, shaking
he whispered "just take it" and
"you probably won't make it"
She was defeated
she couldn't scream
****** bruised and broken
And though she made it
Her hands could never
touch pavement-
again
© 2020 Christina Jackson