OveratedEmoRiot

She had a pretty face but no life shone through She had a pretty mouth from which blood poured to She had pretty eyes which glazed and fluttered She had pretty hair which clumped and cluttered She wore a pretty dress, torn and ill-faded With a pretty blue scarf, ribboned and so jaded The pretty little basket she had carried, made of wick Now lay crushed, splintered, beneath her pretty little hip She had fallen, see, much like Alice in the Land But was no Wonder now that greeted her stand She had stumbled, with no grace or large clocks Ending in a cove, to her grave, in torn socks.