eyes devour tasteless words
sprung up from the depths
conniving little snitches
Her nails twist and twitch
dripping in, with disgust
sipping on the attics secrets
                   it leaks
      and
                   it reeks
She sits like a falling queen
bordered with flaking fake gold
the lips crumbling dry
She had no tone left
caked in old skin
many Women scream 'poor Her'