Incarnation Of Desire

From maidens fair,
and hissing serpent hair,
She,
born of twisted men
Swept a hand that killed so swiftly,
scars dissolving our amends.

And She,
An idea spawned from lonely hearts
and dark craving loins,
Brought on wrath of poisoned darts.
Fingernails,
carved our nightly flames
And we never saw past her sexual games.

Though She,
an incarnation of desire,
Born to please and taste unspoken tears,
screamed with tunes of Hell's masquerading choir.
In evil hours she appears,
raining wet dreams on humiliating fears.

It was She,
whom left the twin marks upon
Your broken flesh blood neck.
An incarnation of desire,
leaving hungry men in a starving wreck,
and crossed herself in consequences of the dire.

They ask of her;
Mask my heart a liar,
you incarnation of desire.
They demand of her;
Blank the skies,
with angelic rape,
from between your celestial thighs.

It is She,
we spawned from depths
Of our twisted pleasures and undignified decree.
It is She,
that other succubi despise,
and a knife on which a darkened man dies.
It is She,
spawned of red hot promiscuous fires,
The incarnation
of our deadly desires.