the pleasure-fiends grappling your insides;
"she spoke too freely but said very little" -
"she always woke up with a start, and never slept soundly"
"oh look there she comes, emotions up her sleeves
unkempt hair and loose clothes,
how do you let her walk free?"
a spring in her steps she strutted by;
"she did not even look, that self-conceited bitch;
you are right my friend she indeed is a witch. "
the harp flew a 100 yards,
struck her on her spine
she fell on the spot, covered in her blood
the winds picked up her song.
she was a dreamer dreaming of a lullaby;