Fire is such a graceful beauty,
Yet all fire is, a baby’s breath,
For fire’s wrath is less than rarely fatal,
A real true beauty will always mean death.
Death because she passes you by,
‘Tis not a horrid death at least,
But when your heart is ripped out from your chest,
You have seen the wrath of beauty’s beast.
You would give up your soul for one look in her eyes,
If a kiss meant death, (yours alone)-you’d revel,
Because of this power she has o’er your mind,
Is only the work of your she-devil.
Only when she leaves you for another kill,
You will fill the gap with this memory of a quest,
One of which you think you’ve won- but in life you lost,
For you wrongfully believed that-
(You pathetic bastard)-
You were the one that she loved best.