The Saint and The Sinner
She wears no mask, her face so calm
Her eyes unfazed from his old charm
Her blank white thoughts, a canvas to paint
Her pale white skin, such youth, a saint
Taking advantage, he beckons by name
To call her over, to play his game
With iron fists, he grasps her arm
Widened eyes, alert, alarmed
On her neck, hot breath does dance
Begging her for one last chance
He calls again, a whispered moan
Then a little louder, with an assertive tone
“ i love you Annie”
What a lie, untruthful words
They spew out from his lips unheard
Now her face, a sculptured frown
Her thoughts depleting to the ground
This canvas black, a devils portrait
No splash of colour, foreshadowing her fate
Her skin on fire, burning red.
This man she loved, betraying her head
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