The Siren

And there she goes,
The beautiful siren,
Whose lips part,
To sing lullabies.
Wandering, pondering,
Knowingly alone.
Careful but still carelessly,
Sharing her heart.
There she goes, weeping,
Sullying her golden hair,
With unrestrained tears,
Despair, and all kept emotions.
And there she lays,
The beautiful siren,
Whose lips part,
To take revenge,
For her broken soul.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Scarlatan, in the year 739 AF.