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| .:Remember to Rinse:. |
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| Once upon a time, There was this old twisted nursery rhyme. It started in a house, with a picket fence, With a garden with weeds that grew so dense. And in the house there lived a girl, Who's brain rushed with a whirl. She'd stare at the moon and swear there was a face, And she'd watch him closely, studying his pace. Her childhood had been lost, In the violent winds of her damaging frost. Once again in this destroyed time, I'll continue with this pointless rhyme. In this house, with the picket fence, With towering trees and an unwelcome sense, The girl grew into a beautiful young woman, Who's thoughts were far beyond human. Her hair was a raven black and her lips were painted red, She swore that on her mind, demons fed. But they turned her away and said she was hollow, So in fury she talked to the voices about the night that would follow. Once the sun had set again with time, The teenager walked with such rhyme. In this house, with the picket fence, On the walls the girl had painted the words 'too tense, too tense, After cutting, remember to rinse'. She walked down the stairs and into a darkened room, Her thoughts too dark and far too bloomed. Her lips pressed into her blessed mothers, As she watched her sleep under the covers. And as she took the other woman they were banished lovers. Once the clock ticked the time, The female grinned as she thought of a beautiful rhyme. In this house, with the picket fence, The mother backed up, her body too tense. She reached out and touched the older womans face, Then slapped her around like a doll of lace. She pulled out her knife and held it to the other's neck, And watched as her mother became an emotional wreck. She smiled as she cut, Stabbed once, stabbed twice, stabbed for the third time in the gut. Once the police arrived on time, They pounded on the door with a mysterious rhyme. In this house, with the picket fence, The girl screamed out to the knocking, "Too tense, too tense!" She picked up her mothers head, And smiled happily at the thoughts of her dead. She skipped the bathroom and placed it in the sink, But for a moment she stopped, for she thought she saw the head blink. She turned on the hot water and washed off the skin, Too tired, too tired.. Lord, I love to sin. Once the bathroom door was smashed open after time, The police stomped in with that same damned rhyme. In this house, with the picket fence, With the garden in the front where the weeds grow dense, The girl smiled up at the men and imagined their deaths, Each gasping and pitiful with a final breath. She laughed heartily and threw the head at their feet, Then stood and posed in a way that was sweet. She pouted her lips then shook out her hair Reciting with such an odd far off stare, "Too tense, too tense, after cutting, remember to rense." |
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