Her devotees, once great and fine men now kept in a charnel house, struggle as angels caught in her silver web. She as lovely and graceful, like a dancer upon a cloud of gold, her soft feet floating above its sheen, making it softer with each step.
They like panicked, bleating sheep unaware that she, their malefic Sheppardess has in store only a fatal fall. None shall elude her grasp nor bunk her manipulative trait. For she is wise and accomplished with her forked tongue. Many have loved her but each in turn has ended scar ridden, and joyless.
-Johnny V.
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