Blackest crows seem pure to her
Goodness sheer, no omen or belief
Stark freshness as in these lyrics
Once, she wraps a day of rapture
Piece of sugar candy in paper
Sentiments inked in fair pictures
Placed mute on sill of his window
A guest just, a paying stranger.
Comes the time, he's back from work
She watches him from her far corner
For him to note, open and savour
But the gift is seen as mere clutter
Brushed off as nothing, unvalued.
She's crushed, he alone in her eye
To his form she glows, and spies
His face, she wants in expectation
Fondles, imagines his reciprocation
Blind, about him like a circling moth
Glad without cause, waits to accost
Her man, all hope, countenance flushed
Content escaping her smile mischievous.
But purity putrefies of desires misplaced
Waste unreasoned, wait on non existence
Lost in anger for self unthinkingly given
Violent, vulnerable, dreaming black
Of men, any, thoughts lying on back
Empty, purged, ununderstood shack
This mind shrunk, egotised complete
Sense addicted body, vampire queen.
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