The scorpion

She danced around
Like the floor was hot sand
Mirror images reflecting
Each movement
And a perfect body
Her hair changes
Faster than the seasons
Blending together in pictures
To show she's never quite content
Strong and flexible
Definitely containing a spine
But lacking patience for sure
She don't take no shit
Lips sealed like a vault
When she gets pissed off
Sleeping only when she needs to
Never having to be told what to do
A great mother in the making
Her stinger strike poisonous
Seeping deeper than blood
Effecting not just the beat of a heart
But the pulsing of a soul