scarlet red atop her head( please read this poem!!)

child tread softly through this wood,
you poor sweet thing you smell so good
i could not miss you standing there
with scarlet red atop your hair,
were you not warned of beast and fiends,
like me who snatch up pretty young things?
who could resist that doe eyed stare?
your pink flushed cheeks or silken hair?

and i doubt those fine legs would carry you far
from my violent demeanor known only to mar
the weak and innocent creatures like you
and your quivering shoulders suggest its true
ever coming here,and perhaps you should
for here before me,wher you once stood

...........they'll find nothing but your cold red blood
and whatevers left of that little red hood.