So fragile is the box that holds the crystal flower.
The presumed Violet is portrayed as in blossom, the peak of its elegance.
The father gives it to his daughter for her splendidly perfect birthday.
She takes it and opens it, though doesn't appreciate the beauty.
Her door is locked as she lies on the bed, self absorbed.
The perfect angel listens to classical music so as to impress.
Chastity sits up looking into the mirror, her beauty radiant as the sun, as she knows all too well.
The princess rises from her throne, and in doing so, drops the Violet.
It falls to the floor in slow motion, as the violin plays its piercing melody.
Shattered into a thousand pieces, yet she feels no remorse.
Her eyes gaze into the mirror to enjoy an encore,
And Chastity is no more….