Her skin, butter-cream by day, turns translucent by night.
Her hair, ebony black, shimmers like the night sky
But only to deceive those she encounters
Her lips, stained crimson from her victims
Eyes piercing blue, penetrating those who make contact with them
Her corpse, deemed immaculate by those she lures into her trap
She is the deceiver, the harlot of the hills
But cleverly disguised
The mark of the beast lies in her hands
Her hair, ebony black, shimmers like the night sky
But only to deceive those she encounters
Her lips, stained crimson from her victims
Eyes piercing blue, penetrating those who make contact with them
Her corpse, deemed immaculate by those she lures into her trap
She is the deceiver, the harlot of the hills
But cleverly disguised
The mark of the beast lies in her hands
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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