SuccubusA Poem by TheScreamingSadistA rather serious form of satire.
She was made of porcelain,
a melodic superior to the harmonies that swam over her alabaster curves with all the wrong intentions; they could only dream of hair so coiffed and white, lips full and succulent. And the perverse way they dove into the twin, cerulean seas on either side of her bridge would blind anyone who was any less than perfect. She was made of porcelain. How else could a small girl grow from a dragon's womb, callous and fiery, an abyss of violent depression, and come out painted like heaven? © 2010 TheScreamingSadistReviews
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StatsAuthorTheScreamingSadistElk's BloodAboutI don't know. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. And video games. more..Writing
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