She exhibits to the world silk and pius robes, but they only hide her goddless heart. Her unfermented smile is but a curtain for an uncivil tongue. Many dance to her birdsong, yet she takes private delight as they tumble cold and tangled in betrayal. As one defeated soul walks away familiar of her true nature, she welcomes two delightful spirits strange and awkward to her vile whims.
She projects the splendor of Heaven's guilded ceiling, instead delivers the foul stench of Hell's lonely ghetto. Her words, warm and dipped with honey are merely a false voice masking her verbal defecation. She gauges her victories not for how many pass through her bed chamber, but by how often they crawl away from her lair hopeless and shattered.
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