One Flowing, white dress in the ebony abyss, 

A statuesque figure appears in the mists. 

Her beauty is incomparable to sunrise, 

And would steal away even the most iron willed eyes. 

She revels in desire, but knows naught of love

She is bound by no ties nor the heaven above.

Nightly, she stalks elegantly through the shades. 

She seduces her prey with the tricks of her trades. 

Singing beautifully, an enchantress, a siren.

To lure in her victims, as she cold heartily desires them. 

Fresh and warm and oozing with fear. 

She licks from his face all those beautiful tears. 

The chivalry and heart of the townspeople's men, 

Are easily puppeted by a mysterious woman. 

Giving the illusion of a princess in distress, 

She uses her strong arms to tear them to pieces. 

An abandoned bloody rose on the page of a book, 

dropped from the porcelain hand of a "Vixen" mistook. 

RATE THIS CHAPTER!