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by Judy Meeker
copyright 04-17-2006

Age Rating: 18 +

She rises up in smoke and mist,
To trespass, to romp and frisk,
Like a snake to wound and twist,
Around the tree that Adam kissed,

She smiles because she is amused,
That the world is confused,
Then she feels alone and used,
Having been the one accused,

Of breaking vows meant to keep.
She slyly watches in her sleep,
Through soulless eyes cold and deep,
With dreams that make angels weep.

Just before the break of dawn,
She floats across the hill alone,
And slays her rival with a stone,
A trail of blood follows home.

The blood of life on which she fed,
Slaps a mark across her head,
Crown her queen among the dead,
The terror of it goes unsaid.

Like some worn out physco-path,
Gifted with a certain craft,
She thinks in terms of hardcore math,
In division of God's wrath.

Breaking through ties that bind,
Us to the realm of sacred signs,
LILIT a blight of killer vines...
Things are never what they seem,
When the motives are unclean,
Eclectic tears, red and green,
Fall from her face into the stream.
Of her reality,
And hell's eternity...

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