Pasted

What makes a man a monster? What makes a monster a man? When I was young, the girls would come and brush me and place ribbons in my hair. The men would laugh to see me play. As I grew older, the laughter stopped. Men with faces I cannot remember placed me in this maze as punishment for a crime I'd not yet committed. I cried and I begged them to let me run free, but they had weapons and I was naked, alone.
 Now the men come once a year with their swords and their shields. They come to kill me. They come to see a monster. They never look within.