This is the poem I wish I couldn't write.

Each part is written in a different style because each part was never intended to have prequels and/or sequels, These pieces span over a year and a half.

Note the different points of view also, to avoid confusion.

------ Polaroid ------

------ Part I ------

I desolder where you faulter
And you weep on a cold shoulder...

An emerald vein and a navy lip
Makes a crimson train and kaleido-trip
Remember to release your grip
But not to let your footing slip...

A cloudy substance and a party drug,
A proud redundance and a hardy thug,
I won't help you out of the hole you dug
I'll simply stand to the side and casually shrug...

I say your eyes are hollow, why?
Because I know it's not what you want to hear.
You want me to say they're filled with
Hurt, misery, regret, guilt and torment,
Well let me make this perfectly clear...

I'm not here to feed you a lie
Or justify the amount you cry...

When your lies became vibrant
My defiance stayed silent,
It was just another strike
In the fight against violence...

Red and black have made their way back
And I'm sure other colours are poised to attack...

You're spending more bread for torn threads,
Less 'material' and more 'reveal',
Plaid skirts and heels that hurt,
To distract the boys from their daily work...

A look of confusion from your dad
As you leave the house so skintly clad...

Is it sex appeal or an appeal for sex?
Are they meaningful love-bites on your neck?
We give love bites because love does,
And the reason we love is "just because",
We all feel love and we love to feel,
Which brings us back to sex appeal...

------ Part II ------

It's something in the way
You tell me to 'relax'
While your hand runs down my back

Your eyes put the HARM in CHARM

A subtle twitch of the fingertip
Pain, pleasure, a stiffened lip

An exposure you say will bring us CLOSER
Yet I've never felt further away
Bodies transform, a romantic p-rn
A part that she shouldn't play

'Stop crying and enjoy it,
You're a big girl now...'

'Daddy's so proud...'

------ Part III ------

Nevertheless you are nevermore,
Cold, broken, dead,
Dressed in a metaphor...

Sure, the nightmares woke you
And my words did choke you
While I spoke with the hope
That I finally broke you...

What I did was obscene but deserved,
Unseen, but observed...

Unclean, and unheard...

------ Part IV ------

Blood is set upon her swollen body
Her legs cocked in a familiar position
Her clothes torn, her skin reddened
Her arms handcuffed into submission

Sunken eyes fall back into her skull
A polaroid lays on her to rest
A note is pinned to her inner thigh
A knife salutes against her breast

Upon the photo are familiar shades
Pigments of skin that match this girl
Her face painted with a sinister grin
Brushing away a stray brunette curl

She sits with her legs poised
Signalling me to embrace
The life inside her inner layers
Projected from her precious face

Now she lays as once before
With skin now greyed and cracked
I read the note through clouded eyes
With a sadness razor-backed

"See this girl as she is now
For she is how I saw her after
You f--ked her in this bedroom...
Her own goddamn father....

So I left you with this image
To see the way she felt
And I hope you learnt from this
As history repeats itself..."