At first, she seems to fit the norm.
The clothes, the hair, the arch of brow,
The confidence, the smile, the lilt in her laugh.
She's a study in perfection. Perfect Perfection.
The more they watch, the more they see.
Little chips begin to fall: a quick glance, a hardened lip,
a fidgeting finger, a tapping toe.
They could smell it: a secret, unspoken gem.
Extractions taste good. The salivation begins.
Study the persona, find the cracks. The treasure lies within.
Victory for the first to bring it out alive.
Thoughts, obsession, senses piqued.
The circling begins. The cravings grow mad.
Careful, careful, don't spook our doe.
Wait, watch, carefully strip her down.
When she starts, quiet her with a gentle hand.
She's escaped. Wild One rushed the day.
But she'll be back, too committed to run.
And they will be waiting, counting down the ticks,
slowly, smoothly, licking honey from their lips.
Ah, yes - she's swallowed the bait,
believed the best. Thank you, Puppet King.
She's playing her role, speaking her line,
walking dutifully into the den.
Pounce, love, Pounce again.
Demand, sooth, Demand again.
Get the gang, no escape.
Pounce, Demand, pour the oil.
She's not giving, tough one. She may not give it.
Then take it! Reach in and take it!
Disgusting, she's a noisy one. Press her down, hold her down.
Ring it from her, tear the cord!
Let's see how good they are:
Smooth it over, save her face,
Let her hide her barrenness.
Eat the treasure, blood running from your lips,
torn flesh beneath your fingertips.
Savor the taste, the fullness.
You won the prize, Ugly Witch.
You're so good at this.
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