tragedy etched a mark upon her skin that could never be
scrubbed clean, never to be forgotten & from it bore the monstrosity
of survival. such supposed crimes of a burdened heart, faithless, one
who laughed quite heartily at the thought of a greater power deemed
her worthy of a cell in depths of hell. but of course a cell would soon
grow to become a throne, humanity sacrificed to join legions, born from
the accursed flesh of Lilith to rise once more. & what a place to begin her
revival tour than the very ‘kingdom’ of the one who
reveled in her demise.
but it was rebellion & resistance that surrounded her,
all that a demon would thrive in. well, in a pretty little co-ed body
or some comatose ballerina. it wasn’t the form of a duplicate spawned
from her used-to-be ancestor. souls were so easily stolen, bargained,
marked as her own when tempted with a pretty face. & it was true that
blondes had so much more fun. viridian irises admired the reflection in
oblong, full length glass, slipping into dress after new designer dress,
squeezing into skin tight jeans & ensuring every piece of lingerie
made her irresistible to the dumber sex.
creaks in the aged floorboards would bring the
impromptu fashion show to an end, new eyes rolling at
the sound of the most nauseating voice, bile inching up her
throat. her groan was hardly stifled for sake of appearances,
knowing that her preparation for the looming dinner
party would be thwarted.
❛ —- in the flesh. ❜
& with a graceful swipe of her hand,
her wardrobe tossed astray found order, settling
for an adorable little white number for the sake of irony.
❛ & i can cause a little bloodshed
by myself. thanks. ❜