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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Other · #1146448
what time is.
Time

Her treacherous fingers rip at the skin, clawing at flesh.
She is the ultimate temptress, the mistress of all humanity.
Her ever-open mouth spews all that she hears, over and over.
She is the unseen desire that men search for, try to tame.
She is a marked sin, but a flawless trophy,
Men squander her in the night, taking all that she gives.
A feast fit for kings is lain out before them, she gives them their fill.
When they cry for more, she quietly serves them, with a few drops of poison.
Her words are sweet, intoxicating music to callused ears.
They go to sleep with her red lip promises in their dreams,
Never to wake up again.
She lives ever-on, repeating her scandalous routine.
She is the never-ending, deceitful Queen,
Some call her Forever, but most call her
Time.
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