Enslaved

What is being done when the grief
leak at the seams over?
Only consolation is freezing cold night in a laptop.
You enslave me, humiliated me.
I was broken tatter shirt of an angel.
I was ugly, small and skinny
broken angel gone.
I do not mind at all if you screw up,
me to lay siege to the complex
idiocy. around a simple
freezing cold.
Women are beaten, beaten,
are subjected to. You swearing,
the knuckles roaches in those strikes.

Oh, what's wrong with me,
when those shots of blood out of my nose to dig.