Remember Little Red,
Cloak coiled.
Cocooned, Little Dread.

Confined in space - no room to change - no air to breath.

So Little Dead remains the same,
Caged in cloth she remains tame,
Teeth taste her lips blood, she remembers the taste.

Little Lead-Heart wasn't born with a Dead Heart.

But the Cage, and Age as Time birthed Rage
Created Death, where once Lived Little Red.
If there was a route in this Labyrinth,
Little Red would find the Thread.