i never miss the beast i used to be.
slaughterhouse girl; bloodsoaked and nude,
flesh carved into the shape of a person,
or; the careful carver, toys all man-made.
filed nails became sharp point claws,
littering back scars in their wake,
she'd gape her vacant and greedy mouth,
writhing like a thing unheaded,
then she'd mark the body wretched,
brand the round with "grade a meat,"
scar the shanks with "dead girl,"
swear herself discarded meat and rot,
or she'd play her favorite game;
seeing how long she could go without air,
and she called the fear after "alive."
she looked so pretty in blue.