Her eyes bleed poison, white in color, seeping through the skin of the innocent. Staining their bones.

Her lips, a dark shade of silver, lifeless, a knife slipping into the mouth of men.

Her breasts, deep trenches, where the heart once stood, beating.

Thick strands of wire droop from her scalp, dripping with the blood of fools, tricked by her wig.

Her cheeks are plated dishes, cockroaches feed off the shadow they cast.

When she speaks, I listen, dead inside.

She said she would free me, from all the corruption in the world, from all the crime and danger, from all the guns and smoke.

... You know what? She kept her word.