Destroying our World

She is pretty,

Yes.

dress billowing and hair flowing,

She comes in, face glowing.

Man spins her around, asking her

to dance with him.

He trips her,

And her dress, that lace encased in silk

Rips, and she tips,

Slightly over,

And another man helps her crossover

To the bench, where she sits,

And sips, the murky drink 

The man tips, into her mouth.

She coughs, liquid spilling onto her hair,

Locks and strands discolored with despair,

And another man helps her repair,

And she sleeps in his lair,

Where he cuts her hair

Until the roots are there,

And nothing is left,

Curled, unfurled, 

Of this pretty, pretty world.