The Transformation

When she's mad, she smiles
and she may laugh a little while,
watch her eyebrows as they rise,
a pretty little perfect picture of rage.

She's been kept in her cage,
with an apron slung over her neck
and neatly tied 'round her cute little waist,
but this is merely to beguile.

Her nails are done up
and you'll admire her hair
as it falls around and past her shoulders
in their cascading, pretty, soft curls.

Her voice drips like honey
as she greets people with a face so sunny
and she's practiced day and night on her smiling eyes
however, to prod her now would be a move most unwise.


When she's mad she growls,
she may even snap a little
and her eyebrows furrow dangerously,
a perfect little picture that stares are you so piteously.

She's been let out of her cage now
with her striped apron tossed carelessly to the floor,
how they managed to keep her for so long is quite unknown-
but she's had quite enough now, she'll take no more.

Her nails are as sharp as a razor's edge,
her hair's pulled back up high now instead
and with it tight and out of the way
she's ready to take new action where few tread.

Her voice grates like old, rusty iron gates
as she snaps out commands that can take people's breath away
and she's waited so long to let this tension go,
to cross her path now would result in a final, defeating blow.