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Immorally bound to condem innocent men to death, beware of her masked innocence and an misleading lure to darkest pits of hell. Enjoy and constructive critisim will be much appreciated

Submitted:Aug 30, 2011    Reads: 43    Comments: 7    Likes: 3   

The darkened morbid whispers dance and sway to the velvet voice of wind. She swang and bathed in pure glory, basked in youthful sin. That not of a child but of a woman of corruption to which her pleasures entwine with those who crave the affection and grasp the vine of idolatry. The deep violets carper into her very soul and touch upon that no humans hands desire, a lust so powerful her body craves to which her mind paints over with her past of strenuous sins. Her voice flittered through the trees, a voice as soft as a delicate rose, but all to which the thorns have that abrase the lovers in ache. Her beauty and splendour divine, her deep mahogany curls pinned up into a elegant bravura, her jade-green eyes, so alive, so bright, the reflection of nature, a world through another, a wonderland of the hidden Eden,slender satin grass, emerald strokes of verdant fingers clasp at bodies that lay in sensual aflamed passionthe garden of temptation it's self. Captured in memory and memory in vain, her lips perfectly carved and kissable a faded fuchsia pout, the aroma of defiance in human limit. The years she spends awaiting, are years indubitably lost. Shadows of the forlorn convey sorrow of their confiment, tortured by existence to which their soul is victim. Plagued by fallacious adoration, consumed by the lies of lust, yet untouched by her restraint, a leash as far as one demise can control. Her ivory lace dress trails under the aged swing merged into the dew-dropped grass, her legs crossed to convey an air of sophistication; she seeks out the obscurity of the unseen to mortal eye, and interludes the life of wanders. Untold by many her existence is unheeded by that of those who unnoticed her true being, a beautiful essence but lethal passion. A mask of hindrance and surreptitious lies, a demon of wild desires and inclination of those who perish from her wicked ways. Sucabus the devil calls, a beauty of death it's self, a maze of wonder and terrible delight, darkened eyes of monsters in childhood dreams. The poison drips into the luscious veins of feeble pray, flows through the blood and paralyzes the heart. An innocent belle, a soul of black and morbid terrors, a vision of the devils mistress in death she seeks no taciturnity.

By Chloe John :)


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