Her own voice comes to her over the airwaves
A military tattoo punctuating
A warning, too late.
Hindsight 20-20 she is now to blame
For the whole world's affliction.
What deity adorned her thus?
To whom was she pandering?
Now the curse of Aaron is on her head, and all she did was
What any human would have.
The flesh is weak.
What did they expect?
Out of the pan, through the door
A nod, then a drop
And a scared girl cowers in the bottom of a pit.
The odor of her failure chokes her.
But where is the failure
In doing what is your nature?
What did she do to earn such spite?
A rape more insulting because
She brought it on herself.
Draped in misery, she thinks of what
Even hope begins to wane
Nothing certain but chaos.
Who knew opening a box would be so melodramatic?