<< : 2003-09-02 :: 3:54 a.m. : >>
Snowhite within her glass Cauffin.

I layed folded up like a chair, knees pressed against a womans chest, I developed in 5th grade. Pretty girl than I was fair, with dark hair, big dark eyes, and sweet red lips.

Babydoll.

I'm cloaked now, and all that beauty has faded. My eyes are hazel now, rimmed with dark circles.

I draw her, I'm always drawing her, and I think I see her in the dance. That sweet little girl full of willful grace, loves to dance. Just when I think I have a hold of her she is blurred, distorted from my view. Like all my drawings. I can't feel her heart beat, hear her careless laugh. He never allowed laughter in his house.

We all sat in silence generation to generation, we watched, we loved the monsters they were. We stroked the beast.

The demonds of my mothers mean to haunt me now, they weigh heavy on the back of my throat. I can feel them handing me the cup to hold. It's shiny and jeweled and filled with magits, and worms. Things that breed of dead things.

I burst into tears, for all of there sarrows, for all of the little princess's pain and knowledge. I screamed franticly don't take the apple, but we did, didn't we.

Babydoll.

We were blinded in our ignorace, and to wildly forced into: knowing the shadows in our inherited legacy, moving in and out of little girls bedrooms, and leather made belts. No we knew the best now.

Little Princess wouldn't though, no she didn't want to see. She played always playing, far far away from me.

Don't touch me!!!

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