Your gentle touch makes me remember just how useless I am. Useless and insecure, lost and never found. I am the princess knocking on your door, asking for refuge, I am the princess locked into a cellar in your prison, I am the princess you cut, the princess who bleeds, I am the princess you bake inside your oven.
I am yours. Yours to take, yours to torture, yours to savage, yours to vivisect, yours to put down into a shallow grave.
Maybe I wasn’t so useless after all…
Jessica B. Vicious
