Mutilated and broken,

she has no face,

but holds her heart in her hands

so it is easier to give

and to pick up the pieces

after another explosion

of everything her tears are from.

And then there are the angry words

and liquidated iron in her mouth,

which spits out rosy thorns

and retches for the wretches

that watch with pure eyes,

which will no be plucked

like the diamonds of her soul,

turned back to coal;

black like the wounds they inflict

upon her.