The Real One

A sick body the product of
A sick mind that spent its
Spirit on a bad product.

Parted with too much, yearned
Far too much, suffered unfairly
Proportions of pain

Meted-out in blessing.  Will she
Ever be the same as she was - once
Innocent and fair, uncursing?

Where was youth and did it
Exist in a place where the sun shone,
Birds sang and hedges were trimmed?

The grass grew then, she saw flowers
Bloom.  She searched among the dying
Long, long, looking for the real one.

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