wicked child was born this day with one wry smile and hands clenched behind her back forever clasped for fear should they come loose, the entire funeral procession would stop dead and there would be more bodies to bury. She was made this way and her graces were left on the doorstep of her grandparents second floor apartment they let her parents. A tot and number two in line of procession as she had a sister full of life and smiles who everyone adored.
Unhappy is as unhappy does and I remember a conversation with a friend on his wall that shocked his friends, most of them being of the female persuasion as myself. They were discussing the pluses and minuses that go with being either negative or positive. I merely took opposition to both sides and decided to "educate" the un-knowledgeable in the ways of polarity. One cannot exist without the other. Wicked child knew this at an early age and embraced her credo long before it was cool to be a prick. I know all her secrets and know all her tales having journaled her life nearly forty years, four decades.
A woman child she was born to two parents who weren't quite happy to the second coming. It doesn't take long for a child like this to realize what end of the universe her bread was buttered and she knew she would have to pick her own berries and rape the trees and bushes and smash what little juice and life force she could to make her own jam. Bitter was the taste of her eyes' witness to the world and she would steal every chance she could to sweeten her view. I have permission to tell her tales because we are close, best friends really, and she reminds me of the time a neighbor child challenged her to a death match. The art of tossing frogs! What joys could be had when one's might is lifted on a scale of comparative value as the arm is thrust forward cupping the helpless amphibian and hurling it high into the air to witness its end on the driveway below under the hot sun of a June afternoon. Her face wrinkled and grotesque as her laughter grew and the vile, satisfied, contemptible beast of a child became more proud of herself for the bully she was. Curbs were a significant past time as she would watch ant holes and the comings and goings on the smallest of living thing,s and with her cup of juice in hand, she would drown the hole to squeals of delight as she watched them scatter to save the children, larvae, and their queen.
Girls are full of sugar and spice and this was was no different with her lying eyes of irreproachability and pure honesty when questioned. Only she was wiser than her masters and knew they would never ask the correct query so she would be exonerated from the need to divulge. She sees no need in things and decides the fates of many and the older she became the more horrid was her station. Wicked child indeed who judges and mocks and receives accolades for the folly of larger beast, man.
But now she finds no fun in her games of evil. And she finds no point in her carrying on, though she still is a wicked child and will always be a needy babe and hurried teen. She refused to change in a world that would change her and her like. So strong was the desire to define herself she merely added onto what wicked lay underneath than to trade it for feelings of polarizing sunshine. Now alone she thinks she has achieved as far as wickedness will allow and can sit safely in the confines of her domain as a queen of mean teaching the more magical of her gifts. She is chaos and death and judge and executioner. Tonight she sits with me to tell me her tale and to execute her role from this damned place she created. Tonight she doesn't clear her conscience but barrs her teeth and dares no one in particular to despise her and loathe her and be troubled in their sleep.
I let her have her way. There really was no other choice in the matter growing up with such a foul monster. So tonight she controls my hands and fingers as I divulge some of her accomplishments here and now...
A Wicked Child's Words of Praise
wicked child on mother's hip won't speak or balk or give no lip
shall walk her first barefooted mile alone without her sister child
wicked beast in blonde haired folly shall pick the highest berried holly
to receive the praise of warrior's feather when forbidden to venture out this weather
wicked heathen of piss and vinegar had no goodness seen within her
felled her shin and scraped her knee but proudly sports for all to see
a scar upon the shredded flesh as she pokes it further making it bled
never winces at the horrific tales of monsters, myths and pirate sails
this wicked girl will happy be when the world not bows but turns to flee
from sinister thoughts and ideas she bore of infamous deeds, nefarious lore
that brings a hush to old women's throats so she can smile and twitch and gloat
because she knows her place and accepts it fair and made a safe place, a den, her lair
a wicked woman was bore this day to be a jester for human fae
will jump wildly and macabre of dead bodies galore at her midday meal not a second before
as she gnaws and gnashes, kills her prey with laughter and awesome, shocking, deadly factor
has gotten herself another year to wreak havoc and mayhem in villages near
wicked child gives all to her profession contained that was chosen before her parents had named
the contemptible, fetal, demon spawn as it opened its eyes the first time to yawn
for boredom brings out the best in her spell and with four decades and no one to tell
find the time to take a break and share now with me what a wicked, vile, evil beast she be.
her wicked days have numbered so fast and she had happiness once a long ago past
and now knows the end of the forest is clear so must concoct the most wickedest things here
but don't fret or fuss it's her best work yet, I watch wistfully as she plays with her pets
like the sinister-gruesome woman of the hour, you would never confuse her for boring or dour
she leaves me with question the answer she knows, for you her readers have opinions to hold
"Does it make me all bad to be true to my like, will you behead me or slash me or impale me on pike
for bringing a balance and giving you right to make your own way because I shed a light
that wickedness is needed in this world it seems if those of you happy faces wish fulfilled dreams?"
...and her tired broken body from destruction shuts down. I let her sleep and watch her slumber as her minions, six of them all men, gather 'round her ample body like a cluster of theological stars. They look beautiful as I wonder how something so pure and exact can be so twisted and proud. I will never understand her and luckily I don't have to because she shows me mercy for some odd reason. Maybe because I don't judge her too harshly. Maybe because I see a need for her existence and maybe because she will let me have the biggest piece of cheesecake today. Who knows? But for now I will just admire this creature lying quietly....inside of me~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
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