Fatal Beauty Walks like a Queen
Loathsome is the enterprise of her art,
Which seizes upon her victim, to seduce,
With a fair torch, to darken her appeal,
Such loose dress, the venom which steals,
Her charm is hollow, her vulgarity over-sexed,
Yet she kills the tenderness, simply for the thrill,
Her lips seek passion, she revels in their obsession,
She cares not for their higher virtues, she wants to lure,
Them by their grasping bodies, clasped in the dark,
She wants their soul, to dominate their ill-fated will,
That her dark beauty, seeks slaves to infatuate,
Her inner mind plans, sneaks and debates,
The strategy of her next conquest of the flesh,
She does not abhor romance, if suited to her lust,
Her words do not mock, but might back-stab, betray,
She lures us on, building our child-like confidence,
Caring not for our dishonor, that we might contradict ourselves,
Her aim is simple, that our eyes be glued to her animal-magnetism,
For she does not simply flirt, but seeks to captivate,
She revels not in our dreams, but crushes our faith by our own lust,
Her power of popularity, she seeks to own what is not hers,
A style of compelling persuasion, she makes us envy her friends,
She is the ultimate pretender, for even she is really lost,
She buys another minute’s mirth, to entertain our coarser imaginings,
Drawing us in and selling eternity like a toy,
She craves to be our paradise, only to be caged on a leash,
Offering us one sweet grape, that we might toil to impress her,
She is so fond of our begging, she gloats in our drunken faces,
Her smile is the blur of our entire youth, that she is always unreachable,
All the sorry tongues which have waggled by her prowling walk,
Her heart excuses itself without a care, as we drop off her scent one by one,
Yet her pride, her self worth, is in her following, the lives of the obsessed,
She is guilty of being pretty and using her beauty for her own gains,
Her ambush and betray of love is almost legendary,
She enjoys to fault others for their weakness, and rewards them with rejection,
While we may beg for her love, I highly doubt she knows such a thing,
Her grace is of the winnings ways, her fate is luxury incarnate,
Yet among all those eager eyes, which crave to please her,
Will she know even a moment of true caring and love,
Those which refused to play her silly game? | 