She beckons me,
with fickle hand,
in silken gloves,
to her demand.

Her crown above,
Her veiled face
Her body poised,
with noxious grace.

awaiting now,
Her harsh decree,
i kneel down,
beneath Her feet.

Her hands swing down,
Her gloves grow red,
reopens wounds,
already bled.

She sends me off,
i must comply,
such is my lot,
until i die.

i can't prepare,
i simply wait,
for greedy hands,
i know as Fate.