• the hood is who i am
    not the face beneath it
    yes, even my name has evolved with it
    no more "Mary" or "Sarah" or "Gertrude"
    none of what i was once known to be
    by companions
    by lovers
    by grandma
    yes, i am now ancient
    but my origins are short
    shall we begin in the meadow?
    where the innocent butterfly
    and the frail deer
    frolic carelessly?
    where the hungry
    and the ignorant one
    are destined to meet?
    what does one expect
    when picking flowers
    for grandma?
    maybe a smile
    a kiss
    a hug
    but what does one get?
    a panic
    a pounding heart
    up to her ears
    but what comes next?
    the unknown
    that simply comes from knocking on the door
    of the house that belongs
    to grandma
    for, behind the door
    is a harsh voice
    that beckons and beckons
    and beckons
    and waits
    and drools and drools
    and drools
    a voice full of content and satisfaction
    yet, still longing for more
    a voice with a hint of pure, sugary sweetness
    the only trace that will ever be left behind of poor
    decrepit grandma
    and then
    there is confusion
    who does this voice belong to?
    whose hairy body
    lies upon the bed?
    it is the body that possesses
    a terrifying roar
    that results in
    a frightened scream
    a burst through the door
    by god, it's the lumberjack!
    surely he will set things right
    surely this cannot be
    what happens now that both the lumberjack
    and grandma
    are both gone?
    this monster
    this atrocity
    he asks,
    “child, what is your name”
    “my name is traumatized,
    he replies,
    “your name,
    your identity,
    who are you?”
    “my name,
    is Innocence”
    “yes, i see,
    just the thing to quench my thirst
    to fill my stomach till it bursts
    come here Innocence,
    my name is Sin
    shall we balance this world?
    will you come with me?”
    closer and closer
    and closer
    to the irresistible
    the reply is:
    “Sin, i cannot bear with the guilt
    Of the woman that called me “Rose”
    her name
    was Protection
    and so is the hood upon my head”
    “we shall need this Protection,
    mask your face
    from this day your name is Blood
    as in what is spilled from children
    when they do not obey
    come Blood,
    that hood is your protection now
    shall we walk on for eternity?
    will you accept this tainted paw?”
    my name is Blood
    and a hood masks
    this stained face
    i am protection
    and bloodshed
    from what is produced
    from Sin
    others may call me
    Self Defense
    but the hood is who i am
    i am