Like a prima pirouetting,
tip-toed en-point perfection,
each step revealing devastation
caused by her damned hand.
Feather-footed she performs
dancing deep in crimson pools
hate-spilled blood reflecting piles
of corpses scattered, far and wide.
Devil’s muse, she most desires
chaos raining down on earth
declaring time on numbered days
announcing they are gone.
Eyes like twins from Hades seed
cast around before she leaves
a trail of red, a signature
to show that she was here.
One last breath of hell-fire heat
and finally, she disappears.
Destruction is her calling card
and death her parting gift.