Power stood, but strength fell
A capacity to fear, but no more burdens to build,
The forlorn of a daughter.
While fault became honey, sweetly puréed upon the flesh I wore,
The drought of one’s character left dry this flesh.
Sticky and shriveled, was my existence.

———————————-

No conquest could restore, dignity or integrity,
The forlorn of a daughter, lost to the hunger of confectioners.