It was always pretty little Alice.
They would never payed any attention to me.
"Your so precious. Your so perfect" They would cue to her.
While I would sit near by sipping my sweet tea.
It was sweeter than the common swirls
For it was sweetened with the blood of so many sweet young girls.
All the nurses and the Nanny's and the little maids
Always ran in fear when I did want to play
Razor blades well hidden in my pockets.
Mommy and daddy knew somehow they had to stop it.
But not for my, or any poor young girls sake.
No because of all the problems that those troublesome tabloids would make.
Now I had to chose a target that they would not forget.
Someone close and dear, someone no one would suspect.
Alice.
Pretty little Alice.
Precious little Alice.
PERFECT LITTLE ALICE.
No one would forget.
That caused a twinge of Jealousy to run deep within my vains.
Half the time our parents didn't know my name.
But they would not forget her, like they would always forget me.
But now they would have to remember her as a victim of my tea.
Sweeter blood I doute I'll ever taste
But I'll let it run freely from her vains and so most of It I'll waste.
Waste like all the years my mother and father did,
The moment they decided to have a PERFECT kid.