PG (December 1980 / Essex, Britain)

Beware The Scorpion

So mysterious in her movements,
She is a scorpion on the hunt,
She wants her prey,
To be stunned and shocked,
By her vicious sting,
She has no love,
She has no heart,
Beware the scorpion.

Her bedsheets are cold,
Her mind is poison,
She trips up the unsuspecting,
And betrays sharper than a knife,
It is her nature, she says,
So beware the scorpion.

She walks quietly,
Hiding in the shadows,
Darkness her empty heart,
Her mind void of emotion,
Quick for the kill - subtlety,
But she kills nevertheless,
Her sting deadly,
Beware the scorpion.

Talking to the gods,
You ask why,
But all the gods can say,
Is beware the scorpion,
So cruel with her intentions,
And evil to the core,
With a mind made of stone.

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