She beckons me,
with fickle hand,
in silken gloves,
to her demand.
Her crown above,
Her veiled face
Her body poised,
with noxious grace.
awaiting now,
Her harsh decree,
i kneel down,
beneath Her feet.
Her hands swing down,
Her gloves grow red,
reopens wounds,
already bled.
She sends me off,
i must comply,
such is my lot,
until i die.
i can't prepare,
i simply wait,
for greedy hands,
i know as Fate.
She comes for us all in the dark