Every woman I have met has a story,
A story that sickens me to my core.
The narrative unfolds,
Like an apple she was to the eyes of the venomous serpent,
The serpent that took its life before it was even ripe.
Though just a bite he took, his toxin wove in too deep.
As she seeks aid, a voice said the harm has been done and time always runs a little too late.
How many of these stories remain untold?
A world filled with serpents and serpents that unfold.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;_Laai_