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
deeper
deeper
deeper
into
cognitive
quicksand
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
