I’m not just a goddess
But an entire religion,
Walking on two perfect legs;
A physical manifestation
Of the infinite beauty of the Universe
With the face of the true Creator.
When I touch your hand,
You feel the grip of death
On your skin
And around your neck,
And only my deceivingly gentle kiss
Will make you forget the burning pain
That I caused in the first place.
When you worship me,
You worship every woman,
For they all deserve to be worshipped –
Even the ones that have forgotten
Or refuse to recognise
The true nature of their power;
Even those girls wishing to be less than they are.
And when you don’t treat a deadly woman right,
You make Botticelli’s Venus and Moreau’s Salome cry,
And you’ll keep hearing the weeping of Delilah
Until the minute you die,
Depriving you of a single moment of sanity and peace mind…
When you break the heart of a Femme Fatale.