Proof In Her Prowl

She is a Battle Babe make you mouth her as a FAV. , all her work an automatic save, a rage'n rave, getcha cravin the ultimate poetic shave makin demons a quick grave and enticin angels to misbehave, She's a Battle Babe, no chance her style fades, she got genius in spades, covert clout leavin you shamed with sheer doubt, livin to learn her upshot ways, offend ya with a biting wit, pen ya witha whip whetted on the blood of your best days, love ya like a lionized legionare, waste ya like a puny prisoner pinned against her spiked legs, wicked wrath and affectionate genuflection the perfection of the Battle Babe's barbarous pathways, the Patron Poetess of the Lady Ink Crew not fearin you, not hatin you, she's just beatin every ounce of you You say she's crazy, lazy and hastey some sort of Prima Donna in distress lost in lunacy pastey, but this is simply a rumor reflected from your own filthy and phony majesty, she prepares for battle settled and seasoned like a lioness in love with the last hour of hunger quiet and confident, instincts infallible in Society's saddistic scramble, pupils green aglow, piercing the pale lies of this business' infatuation with profit's ramble, the salt of twilight stings her senses, your stunted reaction she will savor thoughts of your company falling from her K-9's kill of what was once friendship once reasoned, she will annihilate facts in the false traffic of your tabulated fantasy, she will destroy you for assuming truth in sunshine made from touted travesty - J.A.B.