Winged Beauty
Cut me a piece of her horn,
Take me a piece of her wing,
For my death she won't mourn,
But on my grave she will sing.
There is no love but death,
Cut me the wind of her breath,
Beautiful skin like a reptile,
Her caws cut into the back of the vile.
Yet her mouth shall not serve,
But serve only the one,
The circle is an a symmetrical curve,
Her true birth has just begun.
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