She was stain'd with the marks of madness
she wore wore them like a chaplet
in the shape of crows.
Darkness dogged her every step
from her highs to lows
The maddened birds
bit and scratched and clawed
at her skin like carrion.
But she will not bow to scars
she will not bend to pain
as drop from bloodied peck marks
that fall on her face like rain