Once upon a time there was a girl,
built from millions of tiny puzzle pieces
That were sometimes lost on the floor.
This affliction just couldn't be avoided,
and if they ever found one,
they would follow her looking for more.

She wasn't a great beauty
ands she tasted simple and sweet,
but there was something so innocent about her
like a doll or a kiss on the cheek.
So one by one they discovered,
they could boldly steal away from her pieces,
after she fell into her deep sleep.

And one dark day she discovered
Her little holes weren't so little anymore.
They were leaking and losing her soul,
and she was off and around in circles,
until she passed out on the floor.
Calling out to herself but could not answer,
the sound of her own voice anymore.

Wailing loudly like an empty
and lost without her wings,
moths came to her mouth to leave kisses,
and drop off a few proper things
fluttering about in her chest
wings kick started her dull and haste fast heart.

Her body became lust,
and she still moved like an innocent.
she wore sex like a scent
and often,
the molarks would come running.
Here lips were bitter sweet,
her skin of cinnamon and butter.
afraid of walking the streets
they sniffed after her like meat

And oh the howls to get her in,
to kiss those lips,
and touch that skin,
to feel pleasure unnamed,
and never tamed.
It was s deep and burning itch
and she was to blame.

Often she ran away,
to hide between the stars and the sun.
bleeding from her narrow escape
and covering he wounds with random
bits of paper.

She became a wonderful criminal.
living off chocolate and blood colored
starlight.
Running and playing with the moths at night,
staying away from all those
who lived in the light.

Wanting to eat away at her darkness,
they didn't understand her mismatched skin.
they hated her sullen and cynical ways,
the way she mumbled and kept her ideas to herself.
tumbling their words like cotton candy
and munching away on the sweet fluffy lies inside.

Poor little goddess for when they caught her,
removing her heart destroying her wings,
writhing in pain and falling apart.
picking at her pieces,
and stealing her zing.
this torture almost down to an art.

My little goddess,
oh sweet fairy child,
do not shy and run away.
For we have dipped our pieces in poison
and hidden sliver of blades beneath our skin.
those things of light
that scare us so,
will never hurt us again.

Hidden, yet revealing. A compelling read.

thank you for reading it.

Ha! my poem died! ^_^