Red riding hood by Laylah Hough

Red Riding Hood

I’ll tell you the tale of Red Riding Hood, In cautionary verse that may grate or bore

Red made allusions to what happened before, sobbing, spilling all she’d previously endured

Captured in images that were digitally stored, behind tawny, tangling hair that billowed

Lay this wretched, withering, weeping willow

Found “nearly perfect” with abnormalities remaining

[Anxiety, co morbid with disinterest in video gaming]

Praised for occasional skirts with easy access,

Cheeks, [flat] chest, and hips, the best places to kiss, lick, and grip

Knotted nodules against which to grind, to the broken record of “one last time”

Bewildered bawling tore the forest to shreds

That time she used her hand instead

Eventually learning what he’d partially planned

She sank







Left blurry eyed, blinking, blind, you hugged her and dabbed her eyes

Exclaimed how much you sympathised, similarly damaged by bullying and lies

This enthused champion of the victimised, masked unjust crimes behind a flimsy disguise


Master of moans, mimsy and mind-fuckery

Told Red she threatened your inner sanctity

Crooning how you want her with sparkling tenacity

Bemoaning blurred lines in a just world fallacy

Lured, tempted, brazenly bewitched. by a deliciously damaged gay bitch

Needing your prick to deliver and change her, clothed in a crimson cape of danger

So suggests English Lit. GSCE

An ode to the depraved fantasy

Of wicked woman-child shifting agency


Does stone lie beneath or a moss bed?

Inquiring of the matter between her legs

Self acclaimed servant begging to please, your wordless, shrinking violet queen

Boasting that you inspire copious streams, with tongue, fingers and verbalised dreams


Navigating the countless projections imposed

Hopes of escaping began to crumble and erode

Not quite buying what you sought to sell, the knowing ant still struggles in hell

Shaking, swallowing sticky spider silk words, drowning in milk, lungs fill, stomach churns

Desperate to repair and reclaim her world, Red stayed mousy, but she’s no longer a girl

She needn’t be to turn down your trade

Abandon the roles of child, conquest, and slave


Undeniably you possessed demons of your own, dictating eternal shifts from home to home

A wounded spectre that grasps and pines, despite her drive to soothe and empathise

Never again will this maiden be monopolised


Her skin hosts a sea of rotting flowers, sweet, cloying nectar spoiled and soured

Now planted in darkest, dampest soil, blood which boiled now nurtures, nourishes

Expels seething rage with artistic flourishes


I only hope hearing this tale in unflinching detail

Makes you know the pain these experiences entailed

How your plan to ensnare Red ultimately failed

Heed me

Hear me

Loud and clear

Even when life proves cold and austere

Remain on the path

None shall come back here

Feasting on troubled souls rendered “godly good”

Wolves loyally guard the metaphorical wood

Within which blossomed Red Riding Hood


By Laylah Hough