Her skin, covered by laces of wooled up lies
seems perfect at day, but turns frail at night
her eyes, confused by her nature are reddish black
red for her spirit, black for her heart
she hides behind her spells, her words
that enchant false reflections to those that might see her true nature
her heart black as the widow's shadow, is red to her lovers, her friends
so that her spirit becomes like her heart,
red to symbolise her boldness
to confuse them to see what seems to be her
she whispers poisonous hatred masked to be love
i know she hates me,she hates me for not falling for her trap
a pit full of her victims convinced to be her priceless gifts
if i laugh, she laughs louder
if i dream, she dreams more bolder
her intentions? to make me sink in her delusioned eyes
i cant, i wont. i cannot live in false perceptions of her world
she likes the sun, it turns her into a humble sheep
but the moon's glowing light makes her become a hungry lioness
willing to eat its young for its satisfaction
what is she? only she knows.
i named her the sheep lioness because of her conflicting masks
i watch her words as they take endless shapes to trap her victims
her true self is known by the night
thats why her lovers, her most regarded friends live in the sun
while i walk on the moon
