The cruelest thing you could do to a young woman is make her question her self-worth in a society that is already trying to mask her individuality. The cruelest thing you could do to a young woman is break her hope; the thing she holds on to the hardest. With her knuckles white from her once unbreakable grasp, you tease her ability to continue the fight against the fear.
A young woman is but a vessel for love, flowing from every pore and dripping from every word. Why, then, are young woman taken for granted? Abused? Broken? Why, then, are young woman taught to fear the men around her when all she has room for in her heart is love?
Slowly, but surely, the red begins to fade into black. Love is no longer dripping from her words, but fear from her eyes. Fear that is made full in every drop that dares to escape those precious eyes that once were but a reflection of the endless possibilities held in the night sky. Fear that has succumbed her soul and taken her mind hostage; confining her movements to defense mechanisms and keeping her a prisoner not only in the day but at night during her dreams. There is no escape. The cruelty of the world is exemplified through the young women who once danced on the green blades of endless fields but who are now shriveled, stumbling their way into the grave society has dug for them.
That, my love, is the cruelty of today.
