I miss the princess I once was at dreamy age sixteen.
A church girl and a beauty, purer than Corinthians.
Childhood remained a friend and then came age eighteen.
A new page filled with changes, outward and within.
I thought love was two grips on my hips, a touch onto my lips.
As I screamed no, he continued to flow, through my virgin hills and meadows;
...and now blood covers them.