Dressed With Dust
She wore a hot pink band-aid on her finger.
It covered the torn skin
That was clawed and bit,
But the little hands still trembled with insecurity.
The young eyes were red.
She wore a hood of shame over her head
And hoped no one would see her.
The little hands, a bit bigger now, still trembled.
Haunting laughter and harsh words kept the eyes red.
Now she wore a cape because she was a hero.
The hands weren’t fully grown and never would be,
But at least they didn’t tremble.
The eyes were hidden under their lids,
But they had no reason to be red,
Not in this beautiful silence.
A tragic, beautiful, permanent silence.
So everyone wore black
With trembling hands and red eyes.
Those harsh and haunting voices cried.
Yet, soon they all forgot,
And now she wears nothing but dust.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Dressed With Dust by Nadia Figueroa )
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