Powder

A broken butterfly
With her wings clipped
Trying to forget that day
That day she slipped

Scratch them all away
Memories so clear
Rip away the pain
Bite away your fear

Don't wanna see the light
Don't wanna feel the rust
So lost inside her head
So deep within her lust

The promise never kept
Blood dripping down her theighs
How could he have done it?
She's screaming as she cries.

____
I'm not sure if this is a finished poem. The inspiration from it came as I talked to a prostitute sometime last summer, who happened to be addicted to cocaine. Which as you know, is a powder-like substance. You can find the same powder on the wings of a butterfly, and when it's wiped away, the insect can no longer fly. Therefore, it is called 'Powder'. She was a butterfly.