A Bad Cut For A Good Girl

I was six, though now it feels like years ago
Grandma told me about a thing that makes lewdness,
Only a term you’ll never relate to
That good girls were those brave enough to stand this test
I was a good girl so I walked into the room like one
Head bent, trembling, heart beating faster
But hey, I was a good girl so I sat and waited
Staring into the eyes of others like me

But wait
Why were they screaming so loud?
Maybe they were not brave like me
Or maybe bravery was pain
Either way, I waited
I looked away from the door
Taming my curiosity
Like a good girl

Grandma ushered me in for my gift
I saw sharp tools clattered on the table
But it had nothing to do with me, right?
I clung to her desperately but I was still cold
I pushed and screamed but I was still in their holds
The pain I felt numbed me, intensifying the cold
The words I heard before the darkness unfolded
“Good girls don’t cry; behave.”
Yes, Grandma, “good girls black out too.”