What stories did you hear as you curled up in bed?

What stories did fill your little head?

What words were used to fill your belly?

Or were you brain washed by the telly?

 

Telling you what to think and feel

Using love and money both quite unreal

Fooling you into a social role

To climb a precarious bean pole

Dressing up like a cheery tart

Playing well the angel part

Sprinkled with icing powder

To show your angelic power

Then dolloped with cream

Spouting words from a hot tea pot stream

Words of sweetly spiced venom

Spoken like a well trained phenom

Spooning sugar in every cup

A slow working poison, flowing from bottom up

Filling the air with an odourless steam

As you gain poise, grace and esteem

To grow up like a lady, oh so nice

A trollop dressed up with sugar and spice

Without your own call of duty

In the end you are rather fruity

So little princess in your frilly frock, corset and high heels

A picture of a weak man’s ideals

Strutting about like a work of fiction

Spouting nonsense with perfect diction

But your looks will fade with your hollow soul

With arms too weak to climb the bean pole

A jaded crone you do become

A bird given her daily crumb

Your crown rusts upon your brow

Looking back you wonder how

As the iron returns to the earth

Your life ironic as your birth

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