Pretty Woman

Pretty Woman (14)

A beautiful being sits in a chair
Forlorn gaze, uncombed hair
Hidden eyes everyone sees right through
No one cares about her point of view

Red and pink glow around her once-smooth skin
Fragile hands, fingers bent in
A prized image to look upon
No one could suspect anything was wrong

Draped in a long, white robe
Covering her beaten, bruised skin
Dark, bloody marks
Her shamed soul dying within

She stands up, shaking
Softly climbing steps on stairs
The day she died from other's sins
Her innocence lost from staking

No one can hurt her anymore
She's at the top of the stairs
Accepted within heaven's gates
A pretty woman smiles, for eternity in the Lord's care