Where the night first greets anticipating eyes
Stands a creature clothed black in angelic disguise
Enticing with skin icy pallid, and weeping
Of love lost to Death's cold and heartless dark keeping
Singing her story with voice sweet as sin
Calling to all who would dare let her in
For their hearts were all weakened by beauty and grace,
Though they knew not the horror veiled by that face!
The dark holds its secrets deep in the night
Where evil is resident to exile light.
For who would dare argue with pulchritude's cry,
Perverting the truth 'til her virtue's a lie
No beacon of hope once ensnared in her grasp
A vision of lust was, to many, their last.