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Challenge of the Month XXXIX
Write a short poem about your own private Hell. The tortured who reigns gets 100 big ones. Winner will be picked by Prose. Go.
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HeretoWrite

Satisfied

Some days sitting in my room

I conjure up my future doom

And smile just a little smirk

Dreaming of ending my work

My constant, dreadful, fearful work

Of living in this world, I lurk

Through sinful spinsters, dramatic dames

Manic men and ghastly games

Jumping rivers filled with lies

Distrusting men with violent eyes

Holding onto bits of care

From those few men who say they dare

To love and cherish me through dawn

But I awake and find they’re gone

With no more love or peace to lend

I know I’ll see it come and end

I fight to struggle everyday

But at what cost, why did I pay?

Of all the men who misbehaved

And saw me as a road well paved

I bet you thought that I was weak

But all you got was just a peek

With all the trauma that you caused

Leaving wounds unwound with gauze

I wonder what you thought inside

I just hope you left satisfied

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