May 17

All you ever saw
Was your little girl
Daughter with no flaw
All innocent and pure

Halo on her head
Heavens feathers behind 
An angel purebred 
Every hair aligned

The halo became tilted 
And feathers stained black
How did she turn so twisted 
An angel on attack

You never saw it coming 
If you had, you would run 
You hated to see what was becoming
Of your little girl

This poem is about: 
Me

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