The harsh street lights reflect
In her dark midnight eyes;
She paves her own path
Across the web of life.

She's like the shadowed sun 
That heads to its eclipse;
Her heels beat like a drum
When she walks in the street.

The charity of death
Takes root inside her heart;
The murder is her faith;
The finish is her start.

Though she was born to heal,
Now she has changed her fate;
Her aim is to demean,
She's filled with rage and hate.

Reborn from dark dense mire,
She rules her squalid world;
She caught so many eyes, 
So many loves she sold.

Her eyes are dead and cold
As the ice inside her chest.
Who knows where she will go?
And who will be the next?