The cusp of things

She says don't judge me little one
as I stand at the door of the club
Dressed in high-heel boots,
Blond showing at her roots
Toes grind out her cigarette stub
Eyes fill of worship but she only sees
what she cannot avoid
All dreams, destroyed.

She sways the cusp of her life
And which way will she swing
Will she turn herself around
Or is she never to be found
Till she finds the Shepherd king.
Or will she simply wander, forever lost,
till a girl meets her at a door
And her world is forever bound in the sweet chains of amour

And she takes this girl, so much like a doll
Willing to do anything for her simply to look her way
The Mistress dresses her up, eyes filled with Kohl
And she leads her on a chain, always on display
And when things are quiet, and they are alone,
she lashes the girl using her pain to ease her own.

For she balances at the cusp of her life
And which way will she swing
Will wrists find once again a switchblade knife
Or will she turn herself around when she finds the Shepherd king.
Or will she simply wander, forever lost, never found till a girl meets her at a door
And her world is forever shattered, bound in the sweet chains of amour

The girl she weeps and she cries but she can never be free
For she is entangled too deep in the labyrinth of chains
There is no thread no sword, no rescue to foresee
No goddesses to interfere and beg mercy for her pains.

Now both stand at the cusps of their lives
How does the tale end, which one survives?
They simply wander, forever lost, never to be found
For there are no more girls at the door
For their world's to be shattered, they will be forever bound
in the sweet barbed chains of amour