Every time she walks out the door I see an ingenue dressed in scarlet heading to her slaughter,
Every time she walks out the door, I fear for her and the world she is walking into,
I hope in her life, I have equipped her with a strong scapula,
That she won’t be reduced to a fetish dose and served to another,
That in this maze of life, some vandal will not cut off her tusks and leave her trophy-ed,
That even when I die, she will be her own necroscope, that she can reminisce on the good and the lessons we learned from each other and pass them on to her young,
My dear daughter dear, The world is a cruel mistress, but you shall rise above this pettiness,
You are the mistress of your fate.