A wisp of devil’s breath

She dances in the ruins of ire
Trampling over the core of unwavering malign
Her revival, unrivalled
to the filth that binds the tomb
 
She dances to the tumult of displeasure
sweeping away the flotsam  
to measure the wounds of Mother Earth  
where the base of insight is creaking
 
She dances in the dust of interference
Where the voice in the void is unsettled
No envy nor pride can hide the veil
of melancholia beneath her skin
 
She dances on the breast of the wicked
Where tragedy is perennial
she mingles in the far reaches of thought
to dredge the wounds that never heal
 
She dances on the edge of clever
Where she peddles the myth of reason
Vested in a state of mirage
is the view of joyful endurance
 
She dances to the hymn of sable
Where the wrath and fury grow
Inharmony binds her talent  
with a wisp of devil’s breath
 
She dances on the apex of venom
Where the singe of their words abide
A misstep within the rancour  
leaves her tattered at its crown
 
A voice in the abstract of feeble
Lay waste to the validity of life
Marked and devoid of onus
Leaves us stagnant in the strife