A Sidewalk Dancer's Death

Oh, don't you fret,
Little tear-stained slut.
Scarred, but quickly healing,
You're Daddy's favorite daughter.

Short, but always pretty,
Locked in pill-popping paralysis;
You fixed that slight overbite --
Small, like Cinderella's last second.

You ignore your sick body;
Wanted to become a dancer.
Little Miss Slip-n-Slide --
Poor puffy-faced nymph.

Itty-bitty blonde bimbo:
The booze-swigging teen queen.
That nose was an oversight;
Plastic surgery: Snow White's last bite.

You encourage your dirty mind,
Become everyone's favorite favor.
Your naivety sticks like glue,
Loyal to the over-developed nation.

No more unholy Sunday nights:
Your jagged, long red nails
Pass over longer souvenirs;
All used-up, and ready to go?

You covet the guillotine,
Cut your hair off in the rain --
A dark, dying blossom, all alone:
Sweet dreams, pretty baby.

Oh, don't you fret,
Little star-crossed slut.
Screaming, but slowly kneeling,
You're Mommy's favorite memory.