Standing naked in a green haven; heaven.
Soft naive skin, fresh from the muck and the mire.
Soft skin that whispers innocence,
But the lamb doesn't become sheep without sheding some red,
and for the colourblind there's no escape.
No repreave from the candle wax like rain,
but her pregnable mind, a most willing candidate.
His heresy staining a seamless creation
of the lineage of perfection and excellence.
Her emergence to a world unknown
and a relationship with the father of her woes.
History's first w***e
a title achieved undeservingly so.
But for her treachery,
she gets her favourite shade of gray
every moon cycle.