Her body was tattered and scorned,
tainted by the words of hatred,
and bruised by the ones who said they loved her.

Nobody saw past the warped exterior,
nobody peeled back her layers of armor,
hardened by the tormenters,
nobody wanted to love the girl that was damaged.

If they did peel back those layers,
if they did become rightful to her inner beauty,
they'd see an angel, an angel who has fallen.

They would see a butterfly, with vibrant wings that demanded attention,
they would see a gorgeous rose, who's petals have been frayed,
they would see her for who she really is.

They would see her as a women.
A women of many hardships.
A women strong enough to move oceans,
and fight wars.
They would see a women so strong,
not even the mightiest of blades could slice through her armor,
she was a women of gold.

c.r.k