The Woman
Author: Crimson Angel


Heart of plastic
Eyes of stone
Indeed this female
Conceived to be alone

Fragrance of loss
With air of proclaimity; Cold
Senses of forgotten arrays
Shattered openings untold

Emitting the pierce of conquest
Tracing the lines of false thrill
Smirk whenever to grace fine lips
Gave a wave of emotion to kill

Yet, if seen quite clearly
Exposing one to such sway
Indeed female were weak
Though self's thoughts dare to cast away


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