Every little red riding hood <br />Walks into the forest unprepared <br />Who would expect the wolf <br />When your heart is the unstained innocence. <br /> <br />He lurks here in reality, not in legend, not in folklore <br />In the place where innocence is raped, stolen, buried <br />The soil is crying and whimpering if you listen close enough. <br /> <br />She knew where she was going <br />But did not feel the eyes of envy on her <br />Didn't notice that for every step forward <br />The forest was spinning on its axis <br />Where she thought she was going was not where she was headed <br />‘Princess run, run’ She thought she heard the wind whisper to her. <br /> <br />Underground mines <br />Mines where the skeleton army are made to work <br />Till the foreman of death is board with torment <br />The restless souls with the cruellest trick played on them <br />The memory and thoughts remain <br />The body’s long since decayed <br />There is no resting place. <br /> <br />Six feet beneath the nearest feet of innocence <br />‘Run Princess Run’ the wind pleads in desperation <br />Too late <br />The ground swallows and the wolf gives the grin of evil smile.<br /><br />Vincent Topp<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-forest-39/
