Death was splattered along the cover, danger was lurking its way around the edges, and no good was pleading its way in. The outside was in its faded glory and not too much was shown from its last period of time. Shame was carried through the air, and tunnels of regret were being built into one.
She was sitting, sitting pointlessly on the dirt floor. Gusts of wind would plaster her face with dark thick chalky dirt. Her hands were bundled into many; blood was easing its way from her palms. Tears made puddles and mixed within the blood to make red water. Her worn clothes were only shredded cloth. Just enough to cover her breasts and back, her pants were holier than the first time she worn them. No shoes feet were black as coal and blistered. Eyes were buried behind her greasy brown hair.
Death was splattered all over her, danger was lurking its way into her head, and she was no good from that day on. Her body of glory was fading away, not much of her image was shown from her past. She was alone and afraid, she was left behind. She lost everything and everyone, especially God. She had no holy spirit in her anymore. She regrets too much that it buries into one. There’s no going back. Not now. Not never.