And suddenly I didn't feel beautiful anymore.
It was as if he ripped away the small remnant of beauty clinging to my needy soul.
I hated him. With all that was in me, I hated him.
He stole from me, took the very things that kept me alive.
Everything I loved, he stripped from me. Tore it from me, harshly, brutally leaving me with angry, red seething skin.
I was a mere shell of who I used to be.
Who would've thought that a single bullet from the man I used to love and
A wooden box could make me, me again.