She’s soft and beautiful, kind and gentle,
But pushed so hard she’s over caring
Each new insult, a sliver of the mask cut away
Revealing the primal anger that
slumbers in us all.

Her eyes are gentle, bright and open -
Or at least, they used to be. They say eyes
Are the windows to the soul, but what if
Rocks and screams have shattered them
And only jagged glass remains?
It hurts to look at her now, to see the gaping
Holes where her soul used to be.

And that brave, beautiful heart of hers, the one
That  had an overabundance of love -
It’s closed off now, from itself and others,
And all the blood collects inside until it’s
Ready to burst.

And when all of it comes exploding out, a fountain
Of pain laid bare before you
There’s nothing left for you to do.
Look what you’ve done, this princess you now call
Monster.