Black is her uniform
She is unrecognizable In another color
She used to wear the color of innocence
An exquisite rose, a gentile pink 
Now she is vibrant with anger 
That turns slowly to sadness 
There is nothing magical
Fairy dust is dirt 
She bleeds 
Excitement 
She stares at the cut
Opens the wound 
Can see dead skin underneath
A slash in the center of her lip
She squeazes it to make the blood pour
To make it seep out of her cherry lips
And she can feel it raise up
Forming a different shape
Altering her appearance
She will not cleanse the wound
She will not fix the mark 
She likes it
Because it's Real.