The Woman of Life

A strained pale face, brown like rust from blood, stained on its cheeks. Matted dark brown hair, that had lost its shine years ago. Ripped black clothes that considered rags. The sunken expression worn upon its face. Her face. A girl once beautiful, but she lived to die. She fought to die. She loved to die. She was chained to die. But she still lives. On and on and on… over and over and over. She has lived for thousands of years, she lives one and on… over and over. She is life. Trying to keep pace stead, to hold things together. The diseases and weaknesses. She lives, on and on… over and over. She dies and is born, over and over… on and on…