Broken Woman

She sat on a press and tile floor, Indian style, with the soles of her bare feet dusty from the filth of the floor. She used her old metro card to pick the scabs of the wounds left by those who abandoned her and slashed her self esteem with selfishness. Suicidal thoughts swarmed her mind and hovered over her daily like vultures waiting for it’s next meal to draw it’s last breath. She avoided mirrors, unable to hide from their brutal honesty. To call her pathetic would have been a compliment too great for her to accept and believe. Misery encapsulated her existence but only here on this press and tile floor.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s