The Siren

Recently, I encountered a woman,
Alluring as can be.

Modeling her features,
She appears to be a celebrity,
As polished skin is not just granted to anyone.
Her coal highlights formed to a helix,
Carve out prominent features,
Including her round, aloe eyes.
The unexpected candy glaze dripped from her lips,
Intoxication of wine clouding all judgment,
With milky teeth curving into a smirk.
God, was she charming,
Poise surrounding her figure,
Confidence sweating in her presence.
Adored by all who glanced,
Doors magically slammed open,
Coffees were offered free.

But, I can distinguish what was off,
Her voice sickly slapped with syrup,
Features were counterfeit.
Scorned peeps weren't camouflaged,
Unable to conceal her inky mane,
Eyes stained with Algae.
Continually receiving compliments,
I notice the disdain enveloping her face,
Disgust towards all below her.

Everyone is deceived by the siren.

But I'll let countless people continue,
Flirting or adding a round of drinks.
The intimate looks resume,
For all to be engulfed.
Her distaste for others and nauseating looks,
They carry on.

For who am I to be the one to unveil the siren?