The beast lies awake,
a shambling cage her home.
“I shall take back my throne,
for although they forsake,
I will always remember
I was left here alone.
No one will survive,
even if they surrender.
No time to forgive
dead souls that gave hope”
She eloped with our fate,
she stole our pride while she talked about love.
Treacherous dove of great guile,
insidious curse, deadly allure.
She thrives in the bleak light, so grim,
crimson steed waits her return.
It shall be her turn, once again,
to bleed the land, and proclaim:
“I am the cure!”
Her time now draws near,
to ride once more the storm.
Scorn towards men is her power,
life is her fear,
her dread of the ivory tower,
which she will at last destroy.
A queen among men,
mortal enemy of joy.
They whisper, “what a sin”
to remember her name:
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