By Allison Pruett
Her, her lover, waiting with sorrow laden
Waiting to devore, hiding in false innocence
Her face a fake grave unknowing
Killing the very one committed only unto her
It is only in her nature, for it is not her choice
For now, he is waiting, screaming
But he will have no voice
Guilded lover, dead forever
Never scream, never utter
Forever gone, died for love
You wouldn't
He already has
And yet another fool is seduced
By beautiful, undaunted figure
And there she sits
Another one has come
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