Twas benevolence that stroked her midnight hair; the two golden eyes of pure significance.
The clockwork world enveloped her decaying body with showers made of elegance.
Spheres and diamonds, absinthe rings, silver candles, and assorted things.
Given to her such riches of old, but alas she became greedy, that crone of mold.
Stolen, she took souls from elderly thrones, swept away their memories from within their bones.
The filth kept within her soul, the treasures she lied to have long before, such angst overcame her pitiful heart, it demanded repentance from the end to the start.
She denied such treason to those who trusted her, she claimed it for the "better of all."
And here lies her frozen head, forever forgotten, forever dead.