Oh what a gal!
She seems such a perfect victim:
This I can tell, for if beauty be guilt,
she's guilty
Ordinarily,
I'd not wish to
frighten her or hurt her,
But such beauty inspires one
to give the gift of murder
She's the kind of girl you want to
Run up to and tackle
Through a window some floors up
And splatter you both to hell
Come and get it;
Your stuffed bunny's at the window,
But not that far out...
Reach little one! Reach...
Tantalized a child is wont to
take an ill-considered
course of action; such is life:
is experience not bitter?
Leaning too far
out the open attic casement window,
baby plummets
to a messy death not so far below
Rend your flesh to ribbons on
shards of broken glass,
fading screams end abruptly:
Defenestration
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