She's almighty.
she can take your breath away with a single flick of her tongue,
and then she'll cut your throat with the flip of her hair.
She prevails.
there are no prisoners, only victims,
the wrath of all that is to come,
the torment of what could be.
She's cognition at its finest.
slipping cyanide into your finest wine,
then shedding a tear as you suffocate to death.
She is alone.
and she reviles in its gory grandeur.
The sharp edges of a shattered mirror,
of love.
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