girls are soft as wolf's fur
subtle as a starburst
fragile as a porcelain knife
and we sting, we cut, we bite;

girls were born with strings tied to our wrists
and we'll gently drag you down;
you will lean in for a kiss
and we'll steal your paper crowns.

My flesh burns,
Irritated by the rough carpet
I kick and scream
But they won't let go
Holding me down
My legs are raw
No one can hear me
Down in this old
stale ***** drenched room
Hacking away
Cutting my hair
With a thin blade
The handle thick
Sending blows to my head
What have I done
To deserve this?
My arms
Are bleeding
Skin
Is peeling
They won't let go
They won't
They won't
Blood
In a scratchy carpet
***** scented
Face down
Feet
Kicking blows
Into my ribs
Tears
Mix with blood
What have I done
To deserve this?

See this crown, upon my head?
Made of knives, one slice and you're dead
My finger, tracing your neck
Then come my lips
The blade is next
Watch your mouth
And watch your back
Is it love or a heart attack?
Backstabbing isn't really my style
Darling straight in your face will make me smile
Looked you in the in the eyes
Shouldn't be a surprise

Shore up,
sure enough,
I'm coming for that ***.

Distress
gonna rest,
I'm coming for the soak.

That ***,
bare, backed up,
and we're coughing up smoke.

Always coughing smoke.
Always on the soak.