Rapunzel

I rocked myself shut, like a clam, and I never looked back. 

I built myself up with brimstone, and I never looked down.

I was cautious and careful: I was never scraped or scarred,

but I looked over the edge, and I looked too far.

I leaned too far.

I went too far.

(The fall was a long way down)

Naivety is a pretty fool's curse.

No- ignorance, I suppose.

Mother said that men are the real witches, with thier silver toungues and smartly tones.

But how could I let such a sweet call of "Hello?" go unanswered?

I didn't listen (we never do)

And now I am dead. 

Plummet strait into a thicket of thorns, and tell me what is left:

Nothing pretty.

Nothing foolish.

Nothing but scars and scrapes.

They had to pry me out, shear me away at the scalp, 

What is left: a bald, blind beggar.

I am told by my rescuers that the siren who lured me down from my castle fled

Now my castles too high to get back to.

And I'm close enough to the ground to be dead.

The siren's been singing lately: lulling people into a story

of a fair little fool with golden locks.

He embellishes quite well.

Not so well that I forgive his indescretion. 

Mother said boys make up all sorts of stories for attention.

I didn't listen.

(We never do.)