Eris was always a troubled child. 

Mama always told her she was built from 

Chaos 

        Strife 

And all things wild. 

Born alone in the dark of the night,

To her dad already well and gone...

Eris grew to put up a fight. 

Her true emotions were something she hid or faked. 

Her frown wore her like a favorite sweater 

and cruelty became a habit she just couldn't break. 

Like: 

Biting her nails down to the skin, 

Sneaking away into the depths of the night...

Her path lit by her own discord and sin. 

Anarchy dripped from her upturned lips 

like sweet saccharine sugar 

down to the hands on her hips. 

Eris developed a hunger early on, 

Soon she became known for her cigarette smoke "tail" 

Or the bruises she wore as eyeshadow

everyday without fail.

Eris was born of danger and fright 

With a wolfish grin she visited her victims

and left just as their blood dripped from her skin like a shining crimson light. 

 

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My intended purpose for this piece is a girl, one of the many who have been left or abanded by those who are closest to them. Eris was left by her father so in this modern interpretation, she is a daughter to a single mom. Because she lacked such a "father figure" in her life, she grew angry; chaotic if you will. As she grew older she became more and more hostile. Eris grew to become a violent bully, a harasser, the goddess of strife. 

Thank you.