Judge that boy if you must; for debauchery, for objectifying innocence.. But before you finalize your verdict, oh innocent reader, I beg you to scan again that last stanza. What you and I overlooked in our cloud of perversion and nasty objectification was the unrestrained joy of a little girl playing dress-up for the very first time.
It was unmatched life experience that bestowed in her eyes the sultry gleam that separates women from girls. Although she viewed her life experience like bruises on a peach, men of all ages still found ways to see past the indications of damaged goods long enough to offer her a drink. Hell, it was less than an hour ago that one such man called her gothic perfection and cried on her shoulder. Her boyfriend agreed that a crazy life can grow a girl up quick; it was only last november that she turned seventeen.