Crimson cheeks and curled confusion, you wear upon your head,
Satan’s satin covers and putrid odors ornament your bed.
Countless corners hold your breath and tremble at your power,
So many times, your favor won, with the pardon from a flower.
A tongue found bitter from your taste, and yet it won’t recoil,
Implanted in a weakling’s eye, another life to boldly soil.
Falling further from all pure things your nagging knife will drive,
With shields of iron, the strong attack, yet not even they survive.
Deadly serpent how your pattern so many minds will vex,
As morally minded bodies find your destruction quite complex.
So innocent your laughter, when for pleasure you mistook,
The vengeful eye of lust left you bleeding from its hook.
by Joni 12/05/19