The Siren

I bat my eyes,

Make knees go weak,

Poor fickle fools,

Can’t help being drawn to me.

I can make them do whatever I say,

With a warning not to cross me,

Or in blood they pay.

The Siren calls… loud and clear,

There’s no escaping it,

You can’t block your ears,

Souls I gather,

Moans and screams I hear,

Ego fueled in the name of their fear.

Men can be weak.

Men are too easy,

They fall all over themselves,

For a chance to try and please me.

Wishing to posses my heart,

Hold, love & squeeze me,

But Sirens live their lives alone,

Moving freely.

I can’t be caught,

I can’t be trapped,

Cannot be fooled by any act.

And with three eyes I can see,

The victims falling: they’re so weak…

Too weak…

They can only stand small doses of me.

I read lies & deciept,

So fluently so,

They label me crazy…

But even still, against their will,

Like flies to shit, they’re drawn to me.

So… I collect their souls,

Their insecurities I expose,

Digging deep and far,

Able to see these little boys

For what they are…

I decide when I’m done,

And I set em to the side,

Then I smirk a little bit,

From their pain, I am full & satisfied.

It’s a Siren’s job to take men’s’ lives,

And this was the fair warning.

You won’t return to yourself,

Once you’ve looked into my eyes,

… you’d be compelled bow before me.

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