Listen, do you hear them whisper and speak?
Foul minded heirs and hearts of purest black –
I fear only of my sins will they preach –
When they cry, “Lord!” it is me they push back.
Afright, this demon-child stalks ‘bout the night:
Her lips bleed lies and her eyes do bewitch,
She will waylay your soul with deadly rites.
Corruption and tricks make the devil – rich.
Hatred and pain have her trapped in the mir'r –
I am a nightmare dressed as a daydream –
Where, teary-eyed, we stare at each other
I sew up the cracks with tightly held seams
            Please, if you would accept me presently,
            I need someone to hold me tenderly.