Velvet gloves on iron fists,
Leafy green hides deadly mist.
Beware the beauty that whispers forth,
Beckoning your precious thoughts.
For beauty bewitched many a soul,
Then left it screaming in the cold.
Tread carefully, weary traveller,
For velvet gloves will unravel her.
© Copyright 2016 Hamlets daughter. All rights reserved.
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