Sculptures Made of Skin

She was a damsel in distress,
Wearing the reddest dress I've seen in quite a while.
Her hands were hurt,
Her face covered in dirt,
And she was found in the forest,
Caught with her pants way, way down.
Saddle on up and follow me around
to the desert, where we laid our tears,
until they evolved into more sand.
I'm gonna replicate every ounce of rage I've had in the last few years
And feed it to the wolves, sending them on their way, fucking pissed.
I've lost touch with the modern world,
I have become a burden on every citizen in the closest residential area.
If only I was a figment of your imagination, you could just wish me away.