Scarlet

She dreamt herself a princess

The center of all love

A long robed beauty lightness

Her flowing golden hair lovingly combed by sister-maidens twice a day

She would stare out for hours over rolling fields of little red flowers

Never minding the terrible racket going on outside her door,

Never minding the continous sobbing that seemed to ooze

through every crack in the wall

What was going on in other parts of the castle wasn't hers to worry about

She would lie down on her four-poster bed,

a perfect sleeping beauty, and drowse in deep harmony with…

A mangled little form tangled in dirty sheets,

Bled red and tightly pressed to ease rectal bleeds

This tortured shell carelessly cast aside

Subject to the furthest extend of their fatherly pride

Painfully got up from the bed

Statics crackingly ruled her head

Limping to a badly cracked mirror face on the wall

and began brushing the princess's golden hair fall

Oblivious to the grotesquely swollen child face staring back at her

Insert your brainplugs gentlemen and gather around

Today we bring you fairytale abuse in real time

Experience being lolita and user

And bring yourself to unknown heights of human devolution

Big Brother up to it's maximum

Pelvic Personification force-feed perversion

What a docile race we are nurturing our own infected imperfect nature

The mirror became claws pulling her into pervert's paradise

She found herself tunneled in a dark vast forest passage

Great branches arching over her, dwarfing her to the ground in terrified awe

Shadow shrouded trunks obscurely portraying large numbers

of ill-composed silhouettes

Lost in ominous malevolent woods

As if opperated from the outside, her feet began to move

After what seemed a nightlong of slo-motion

Her surroundings closed in and blew up in her face

Sprawled on her back, limbs held to a squirming ground

Grabbing - groping - inserting, cold laughter the only sound

Out of every thinkable and unthinkable corner came an eye

An absurd variety of cameras extended on bone like arms

Watching, being - Is it your mind or hers?

What evolutional design can justify preying upon a child's suffering?

And there was nowhere left to run

And their where no more doors to her room

This scene being but one of many, each confined in a perfect princess tear

While she's weeping paradoxical structures