THE BLUE VEIL.

It's she who snatches destiny, in one swoop 

Killer Machine, perfectly equipped for her formula

She'll go above and beyond, complete confusion. 

Sheer sneakiness is her game, her gun 

Her bullets will ghost you into vanity, 

The curse of darkness and miserability!.

It's not like that anymore, she fell from her throne of monstrosity. 

The hero products of her destructive reign, chunks of past life. 

Was now a speck in the space of time 

Nemesis had grated her to clods of insanity 

And the mysteries of her calamities had taken her in a death roll. 

Now she's been molded, grown into the dark plant of the desert, 

Of oversexed, loose depressos 

Whose functionality was a past life.

Yes she burned out, as you expected 

How she died you'll never know 

Perhaps she just ran out of time. 

It's so sad people, total kissass 

Still idolize the giant ember of all miseries. 

Whose tale was of pathological narcissism 

Sitting atop her throne of destruction, pouring out colours of destruct, an Old law.

Still she's a beacon of soot memory, terrifying 

For those ready to lose their souls, 

Till it sores up to death. 

Eternally tortured in the flames of truth!.


POET: BABATUNDE MODUPE
IMAGE CREDIT: Goggle Images