Rivers flow silently from the wells of her eyes
Stemming from a storm raging within her hollow cold heart
Hollow and cold from years of rejection, hurt, pain, and loneliness
The build up of scabs and calluses have taken they’re toll
All that is left behind is a pink muscle pumping blood throughout her body
In order to preserve her pitiful and wretched existence

Thickets and Thorns grow wild in the abyss of her soul
So that nothing can be cultivated, nothing can grow, nothing can blossom
A dry and barren desert, where the flames of hope once burned, extinguished long ago
Hopes of love, hopes of joy, hopes of happiness, hopes of acceptance
Now nothing more than seedlings blowing in the wind with no sense of direction
Having no fertile soil to rest in and hence no chance of growth

A volcano erupts within her bowels from a build up of the bile of hatred
Hatred from others, hatred for others, hatred for herself
For not being strong, for not fighting back when venomous words were spewed at her
Burrowing their way through her thin skin and piercing her soft heart and sensitive soul
For finding comfort in the very substance that was the source of their ridicule
The substance that was the reason of her enormous stature and gait
Her love of this comfort was now the reason for her need of this comfort
Everything had come back full circle, but not in the way she had hoped.

The winter squall that is rampant in the cortex of her mind
Has created a frigidity within that can no longer respond to affection
Negativity is all she has ever been given, and so it is all she can ever give
Love will never take up residence in the darkness of her spirit
And the speech she emits from her lips will be forever ugly and vile
She has been tattered and torn, ravaged and scorned down to her very essence
She has been used and abused, taunted and teased, beaten and down trodden
She has been cut to her very core by mankind left to bleed in a world of loneliness
She is an obese woman.