Bloodlust
Blood is but a trickle thro’ her veins;A tear – but only that it feigns
A look of sorrow; the sigh, she had to borrow;
To know, in acting hurt she all but reigns!
A perk of siren head to draw him in;
He melts – a waning from within.
Her clever snare: he marries with her hair.
But now the kiss - a taste of her cuisine!
She in torsion paints a torrid tale -
See her callous grin upon his wail!
- Be the torture, swallow down the pain -
His burden gone, no life must he sustain.
Revenge on Man! Her loss of trust had
Wrought an evil whored in lust:
The crafted vintage e’re the thrust
Behind her ill champagne.
Mark R Slaughter
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