You cut all her hair off and buried her

for 17 years and now she appears,

smeared in underworld grime 

your worst fears manifest.

no longer a slave to your concepts

of space and time,

led on by the diamond-hard 

grudge in her breast, held close

and allowed to grow teeth.

your mind, defined by the surface

is powerless to grasp 

what lies underneath,

the fires in her eyes,

the size of her hate-

subterranean, dormant,

lying in wait.

you tried to preserve her petals

with hairspray and fit her in jars.

you pulled her wings off 

with pliers and groped her in bars.

those who are born 

are doomed to be torn apart 

at the hands of those who are forged

and the voracious will always devour

and overpower the sluggish

and the engorged.

do not forget what you buried

one night out there in the mud.

over time, some sharpened edges

develop a craving for blood.

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