Frosted Window

As she sits by the frosted window
A cool breeze flows through
Tangling her dirty blond hair
Filling her flannel gown

She waits the passing of time
Screaming in silence
She is not ready to listen
Not ready to accept it

The traces are still visible
The marks on her pearly white skin
The food of life still flowing
The pain still throbbing

A fresh scar glowing
As a lifelong reminder
Of what could have been
Of what should have been

Her weeping the only sound
Warm tears in the chill
As she still waits
To accept her fate

After going to the Breathing Poetry site recommended by The Waxing Moon, I linked to Every photo tells a story where daily prompts are posted in the form of images. The image I used is here.

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