Velvet and Lace

There she sits in velvet and lace,
The medieval freakshow girl,
With a porcelain doll's face,
As she reclines within the golden cage,
Toying with her ruffles and frills,
She doesn't speak,
But will often sigh,
Batting ebony lashes,
Over half lidded cerulean eyes,
From time to time,
Perhaps she'll pace,
The length of the cage,
As if measuring the space,
Then stamping one dainty foot before the other,
Throw a tantrum,
Not befitting for one as ladylike as her,
But still they keep her locked away,
And daily dress her,
Never mind if it's week end or week day,
And she daily grows weary of the sight,
Of people coming in,
Just to stare at her,
Feeling just like a caged animal might,
The pretty gowns and dainty shoes,
The ribbons and bows,
Are picked out for her,
She can never choose,
She never ages,
And never fades,
After decades,
Her beauty remains,
But those sky blue eyes,
Undulled by time,
Have taken a gleam,
A sly light shining from a once docile mind,
And slowly, carefully,
She delicately unravels,
A line of lace from each dress,
That have become her daily staples,
Braiding them in the quiet of night,
A noose she fashions,
Not for her,
But hush,
Someone else is approaching,
And he's carrying a light,
The night guard strays,
Too close to the cage,
And out flies the string of lace,
Entangling a bewitched moth,
Like a spider's silken web,
He who falls prey,
To a smile from the lady's face,
The bonds too late he struggles against,
The lantern drops,
And the guard does too,
Only this time,
His face is blue,
The dainty hands pick up the keys,
Within trembling fingers,
She cups the one thing in which her freedom she sees,
The keys still work,
And she breathes a sigh,
Steps out on chilled legs,
Onto a floor that's not grille but tiled,
Steps over the body,
Light as can be,
Away into the night slips the delicate lady,
In the morning,
A dead guard strangled with lace is all that's left of her legacy.

~Rei Shiori