Once upon a time, in a world that looks like yours there was a girl with golden hair that hung like a banner across her back in a a sea of sandy metal that whispered across the air all the untold secrets of the water and the flowers and their petals
and when she blinked, her eyes were blue and if you leaned too close you'd drown in them like the hags who tumbled down the wells and shrieked for help that no one cared about because they didn't hear their voice or see their ebony locks trailing like abandoned sea **** after them because they didn't fit into the space the puzzle maker had carved and couldn't conquer the tedium of difference
and the girl was tugged by hand to go to Church and her prayers were secret treasures that trickled from her lips and tasted like righteousness each word more crystal than the last soaked in honey at the tip and smothered in wonder and glory and the days as they passed
and they never mentioned the girls she teased who wore headscarves or bindis that she'd printed with the colours of endless torment in hues of cheerless and agony and the girls never told her that if they took them off like she begged them to laughter sprinkled in and stirred they'd have to show her how much more pain her jeering caused them
and the girl made mockeries of the unconventional but that was okay because everyone did their eyes creasing up into slits of derision in universal agreement skidding past the true whims of their heart and growing to resent them
and the eccentric pressed themselves carefully into the mould of society's baking tray their souls thrashing out in pain and hatred as they compressed their emotions and intelligence and the beauty they found in the strangest of things into the shell that had been vacated for them when its previous owner had shrivelled up and given in and died
and all the way through life, the girl was beautiful but she still blew char over her eyelashes and stained her lips the post-box red that's found in first kisses and poetry and scrawled crayoned hearts and fading wishes
and she made fun of the red that pulsed in the form of acne on her classmates' faces growing their hair out long to cover their pain until no one could see their shame and pouring their money into the collection tins of mass chain stores of cream and gloop and products until their faces were marred by make-up until their mothers didn't recognise them anymore and they cried
and the girl was thinner and happier than anyone but because it amused her her wrists were slit so her peers doled out their sympathy and held battles over who could make her smile first and she fasted to become thinner and she collected four leaf clovers
and her classmates ignored the tender puckered skin of the children that hacked at their flesh and tried to hide it alongside their hurt and she cackled at the ribs that seemed to try and burst from their flesh like hungry mouths were trying to eat them from the inside out and they collected things because they feared what would happen if they didn't because that was OCD
and when the girl grew up, she married a boy and he was tall and his hair was night and he was handsome in the conventional way that was accepted perfect match the paradisiacal sight of dainty damsel clutching the arm of the kind of man she'd read about in books she'd been infatuated with him before they'd met
and the boys who fell in love with each other were outcast and spat on their hearts torn into tatters and shredded in machines by the people who thought they could decide for them that if they didn't love girls then they'd love no one at all because in the fairy tales they'd read as young children they learnt that prince = princess and the prince never runs away with the woodcutter because where would the princess be then?
and the girl still lives on today, in a world that looks like yours her words a deadly poison reaping and bleeding crushing her prey between ******* and showing songs to the ears of the impressionable, young or old sowing seeds in their brains that blossom in their hearts and she is beautiful and she is terrible and she is nameless but for the title of Society’s own child and she is blameless for it is the parent at fault.