Graced not like harlot playing slots with her womb,
Screwing fist-fulls of men, making body her tomb. 
Mind away, lost in slumber
Dreaming lies to elude
Strange hands and foul tongues playing mouth games in her room
The sucking, then biting, then chewing ensues
Rags ripped from soft skin leaves the soul exposed, hurt and bruised.
She twirls like an angel with drugs, her mind she subdues
In the black queen’s dark castle, herself she does groom
Her beauty, enchanting, spears shark like harpoons
Fins come, lay silent, and pay homage in the star and lit moon 
One hour in heaven, but their souls they do lose
For beautiful ruin in red heel and cheap fume
Brown recluse spinning coffins, dragging prey to consume
Rouge lip and no gloves, she craves it, still groomed
Still offering her body
Stiff leg and cold womb
Still serving her purpose, locked high in bound of brooms
With a pistol in hand, letter drawn and initialed
But paralysis struck her movements
Next client came to soothe their issues
No bang, No boom
Then inward men filter
One by One, Two by Two
The drowning, the spiral, still trapped in her gloom
But still key to stone soul wanders where you presume?
Not hidden between thighs moving rhythmically in tune 
But bundled and shiftless 
Wrapped tightly in an emotional cocoon
Not hiding, but resting
At peace while regrouping
Finding independence from these cold black slings
But here she lays, draped and dead in black lace
What an end to her story
Fallen victim to the chase.