"Daddy's Princess" - What do you think?

Murky green, russet cries,
Her eyes, they hide one thousand lies.
Stories of sorrow, tales of spite,
A flame inside her mind ignites.

Willow blonde, ash like hair,
Your mind is damaged? She doesn’t care.
She’ll rip your soul into tiny shreds,
Your heart is dead and her powers spread.

Seedy, wide, malicious smile,
She hasn’t seen you in a while.
With a grin and a laugh, her knuckles crack,
Her knife is ready for your back.

She means no harm, or so it seems,
But a plot is forming behind the scenes.
She rests her palm upon your shoulder,
With every kill her heart grows colder.

She gives an elegant, “How are you?”
Why try and resist, you’re stuck like glue.
Her powers dwell within yourself,
And suddenly you’re upon her shelf.

She makes you believe it’s not her fault,
When you leave open your locked vault.
She creeps in without a sound,
With a flame ready, to look around.

Her eyes sparkle, what can you do?
You appear good friends for a week or two.
But when you’re bare and insecure,
It’s her torture you’ll endure.

She’ll find a way to break you down,
In your tears your soul will drown.
Your mind will split, torn in two,
What’s wrong with her? Or is it you?

Ripped apart and shattered down,
Your face is worn with but a frown.
You’re used up, she moves to another,
A poor, new victim she can smother.

You try to warn them, try to yell.
“Watch out for that bat, right out of hell!”
No one believes you, no one hears,
Even after all these years.

You’d think the school would notice how,
It’s her best friends who take the bow.
They wave goodbye to sanity,
Childhood wonders are yonder see.

They’re the ones who drop out of class,
Whom, in most subjects, fail to pass.
Their eyes glaze over, their minds a blur,
Everyone knows it’s because of her.

But they act blind, they don’t care,
Her father is prestigious there.
He’s full of ideas, full of dreams,
He blanks out all the dead girl’s screams.

His daughter is his pride and joy,
A princess you cannot destroy.
To him she’s perfect, his stocking filler,
When in reality she’s a killer.

She may not stab, maim nor slay,
But in their hearts her daggers lay.
Pulsating gently, in and out,
A pain they cannot cry about.

Though you can’t see it, you know it’s there,
Her mark is left on their souls so bare.
They’re all afraid to trust again,
Though they try every now and then.

Her fingerprints are made of ice,
Malicious games appear her vice.
Hurting others is her hit,
It’s a shame she’s made of it.

She’s not a bad person in her heart,
But being reclusive is an art.
She has to practice every day,
In order to end up that way.

Everyone knows about her game,
Hers is a very important name.
You’re warned of this from the beginning,
‘Turn away when she’s seen grinning.’

Teenage girls, be aware,
Satan himself is living there.
But behind the crusty, broken shell,
That girl is trapped in a homemade hell.​