The Softest Curse
Her fingers dance in wicked tunes.
Her wrists release infernal runes.
Her softest curse inflames the air
And spreads the scent of soul despair.
By her whim is ruin wrought .
Destruction seeps from idle thought.
Her hex withholds no hint of pain
But sends in force her fullest bane.
Strife escapes beyond her smile
As ire aches in every wile.
Disaster springs behind her tread
And leaves a wake of comely dread.
By shattered oath and shallow vow,
She lets no doubt distort her brow.
No crease or furrow marks her face.
No mercy cracks the mien of grace.