End of a Torture

She awakens listless alone in her bed,
memories of the liaison still haunting her head.

She looks in the mirror above the dirty sink,
and hates what she sees. She's afraid to think

of where she'll be five years from now.
And she's ashamed of where she's been.
All she could do is wonder how
she could let this happen again.

She's all alone in this fucking world.
She remembers the tears of a little girl

with her father inside her, she didn't know why.
She didn't know how to stop it, but had to try.

He had to die. It wasn't her choice.
She relives the torture every living day.
She wanted to stop it. No one heard her voice.
She begged for them to believe what she had to say.

She looks at the window to the street far below,
as the pain in her heart continues to grow.

The used condom on the floor is a remnant of last night
and all nights before. She turns on the light

and looks around the cheap rented room
and sees the entirety of her life before her.
She hangs by a string spun by the devil's loom.
She sees a face in the mirror that has learned to abhor her.

She realizes she made the wrong decision
as she steps onto the sill a step closer to oblivion.

Her final words she says to the man,
who ruined her life, but never again.

I'm sorry I killed you, we didn't both need to die.