Wearing a shimmering, glowing dress
With a touch of black I guess
Not any tint of whitish press
Commanding, charging a boastful stand
A mysterious smile, trending in style
In search of inferior humanity.
Sticking a stinging jilt on feet
Adoring seasonal beauty with guilt
Bustling on a haunted street
Dissecting for some hidden den,
A baffling simper, merciless in anger
Demolishing our wonderland.
Alas! A disturbing brutal mien
Neither impressive nor a hail
Only a fragile tale!
Trying to prompting lordship for free,
Assume a cunning hunter, rhythmic as water
With a glimpse of fateful deed.
Never concerning thou anxious bell
Nor worn out any morals for bail
Wait till grieving your final trail
With lots of eternal dignity,
Be a heavenly weal, a glorious feel
A healing clutch of generosity.