Black hair like a ripped, jagged silk curtain
Cascading down her back, twisted spirals
Like snakes growing out from her vile mind
Succubus
She has no heart,
And she feeds on your flesh;
Drinks your blood, bathing herself in your death
Your last attempt to overpower her
Dried on her Ivory, hard skin
Patterns of clotted blood
Puddles of crimson dripping down
Underneath the floorboards, her body awash with it
The beast, with piercing silver eyes
So beautiful as the moon,
Succubus;
She has no Heart