I can’t help but wonder
What it is that is under,
Your spellbound curse,
That causes you to hurt men
Whenever they get close.
You ravage their heart and soul,
You consume them
And then just leave a hole,
Your beauty is only matched
By your savagery,
As you perform open heart surgery,
On those who dare to care
And those who dare to love you.
You are an enchantress indeed
And it is you that draws them in to feed
But in your blood lusting need
You drain them of everything.
You eviscerate them
And the you taste them
And then serrated their limbs,
Before you grated their skin,
Just so you could eat him.
They are paying for their unknown sins
Without knowing really anything,
Your issues are to many and to complex,
Killing men is like a reflex,
To her, the Queen of the obscene
The Warrior of the rending spleens,
The most beautiful woman you will ever see,
Matched only by her vicious savagery
And when you discover how dangerous
She is, it will be too late,
Because you’ll be dead already,
And served on her plate,
Like oh, so many
For she has acquired a taste,
A taste for men.