Little Red

Little Red made this trip as early as twelve.

Her baggy hood wasn't enough to cover up from the wolves

The feeling of shame, arising, the first time they noticed

that Little Red wasn't looking too Little... anymore.


At twelve, she was whispered about. 

At 14 they howled,

And at 16, Little Red was followed.


Thirst dry in the mouth of the wolf who picked up her scent

Her heart, beating out of her chest.

She should've known better,

But who could've known better?


Red was normally careful.

Normally prepared.

She walked with mace strapped to her basket.

Moved with a purpose.

Stayed in a group


But this wolf was hungry,

He looked as though he was fasting,

waiting for a girl with a cape like hers


Little Red was trapped.

Bruised and taken advantage of,

She didn't make it to grandmothers house that afternoon


in the villiage the next day,

At 16,

Red was whispered about again,

A different narrative this time


They questioned her choices.

What was she wearing?

What route did she take?

Why was she on the way to grandmothers in the first place?


The Wolf Got away, 

Never even questioned,

The hunters went out

But no one was arrested


Red was not only attacked,

She was blamed,

Regardless of the facts,

She was never the same.

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


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