Everyday she sees such ugly numbers,
Climbing with a vengeance and
Torturing her every thought.
Numbers plague her existence
And she counts every single sin
With the fingers down her throat.

Like a woman condemned,
She carves three scarlet letters into her skin,
Branding herself so she can never forget
How f.lawed a.nd t.ragic she really is.

And she cries because she knows
It’s not the numbers that are ugly.

A/N: please review.