She's not made of sugar and spice
or everything nice.
She's made of blood stained dresses
and matted, unkempt long tresses,
skin tattooed with markings made with a blade
and a body and mind that have decayed.
All alone in a raging war against her own being,
she has a distorted view of the world she's seeing;
thinking that the world is a better place without her in it,
she's mutilating every part of herself bit by bit.