She Is A Woman Impure

She is a woman impure imprisoned by her flowing blood in a cycle of months and years. Consumed by her fiery lust, in search of her own desire, this mistress of the devil followed his footsteps into a destination obscure unmarked, unmapped before, that union of light and fire impossible to find. In the heat of her simmering passion her breasts have ripped By each thorn on the wayside every membrane of her body ripped. No veil of shame conceals her body No trace it bears of sanctity But, O Ruler of land and oceans, Who has seen this before? Everywhere your command is supreme Except over this woman impure No prayer crosses her lips No humility touches her brow.