she was always a princess, walking on her
toes and wearing a crown, the sun
shining off her good intentions.
daddy's little girl, until daddy no
longer existed (hell was a place for sinners
and saints) and then he came along (she
never would find out his name).
just call me j, he told her. he had razor-sharp
words and a twisted knight-in-shining-armour
complex- something she simply couldn't resist.
(after all, a damsel in distress is the definition of
lust and all things sugar-coated.)
he stole her spirit and her voice, a far cry from
the fairytales she'd been told as a little girl.
daddy can't protect you now.
now her crown is just damp cardboard and peeling
paint, and her heels hurt her feet. the sun doesn't shine
here anymore, darling. (and good intentions were
never anything but a false hope.)