She runs like a young deer, she dances like a butterfly and she looks like a swan.
But she's closed like a vault, she bites like a wolf and slays like a demon. She's lightning, cold yet burning. She's a bullet, swift, near invisible and deadly.
And when she dies, she will die like the heroes: glorious and before her time.
I didn't actually write this with Natasha in mind, it just seemed fitting.