The sweetest face
In a field of mediocrity,
Aine sits prettily with
both of her white shoes laced.
The goddess of the moon and the sun;
She’s as double faced as she is bright.
Her web she has begun to spun,
As men begin to fall at her feet
With offerings of empty appraisal and false love.
Elegant and neat,
She rules the places she occupies
Without her, life is incomplete.
But she defends the one she loves
With the ferocity of a thousand in one
She’ll come at your door with
A handful of knives
Behind her smiling facade
“Hell hath no fury
Like a woman scorned.”