Her eyes flared like an instinct
Taking over Nosferatu.

Game up. Over. Shut the lid.

Parasites coursed through her arteries:
Daddy's little girl ain't a girl no more.
A cruel metamorphosis. A dog bite.

She had all her shots.

Like a yarn spun from a certain Monroeville Mall,
he knew exactly how to handle this.

Poison, tar, had filled her little lungs.
His little girl was dead.

Try getting to grips with that in half a minute.

A temper tantrum that he's never seen before,
So much that he misses the ones in Tescos,
all those busy Saturday aisles.

He tried to reassure himself,
well at least she isn't throwing sweeties on the floor.

His little sunshine, blue-eyed princess.
This little demon, grey-skinned fiend.

He used the axe that was next to the Wendy house,
where his little princess had her last tea party.