The sword of his night, blunting her vigorous resistance; a forced entry, an internal scar; the line of crimson dye, bearing mute witness, to her daily death.

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She was a victim,
of persistent abuse ;
noosed by the geometric combination,
of strategically placed crimson dye;
a line & a circle slaving her freedom,
an inert, chemical pigment,
an assembly line ethnic sticker,
conspiring to realign her life ;
to a fate worse than death.

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