Frailty, a human trait,
her countenance does show;
a sign of her certain fate,
in the dreaded foot of crow.
Once a creature of angelic beauty,
who squandered a coveted gift;
caring only for worldly booty,
between her and God, forged a rift.
Conclusion of this wasted life,
consists of apt loneliness;
no friends or family to aid the strife,
vanity has deemed her odious.
Even in this time of sorrow,
Grim’s sickle shining in her eye;
she cares nothing of the morrow,
and fails to look up high.
For only God could save her soul,
from the pending punishment below;
where eternity with no parole,
her faults, will surely show.
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