Dear master, in kind I do reply
Save warning you unto her claws
In passing, her former bequeathed a light
That conflagration is now because-
He left her far too soon for words
And ailment sets upon her brow.
For every day she was alone
Bore two she spent upon the prowl.
To quench her vicious soul-burned heart
She'd hunt the weakest of the heard
The ones who wanted what she had
Which after him, it wasn't much.
What glory it was to look and see
Her paintings in the secluded room
Made from lovers and hatred both
Who dared to tread upon her womb.
Though hatred she bore naught for them
Lest she become a dulled edge knife
Her craft became an art for him
To bring him company in nowhere rooms.
So now in cage you'll transport her
Whose imprisonment was signature
On art that bordered brilliance
Perhaps you'll get away with your life
Or be her finest figurature.
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