She poses in a provocative way
As she stands on the stage, softly singing.
She, her parochial lyrics, are a
Hollow collage of glittery nothing.
She appears like a detached cherubim
In digitally-enhanced pictures, an
Angel of death in designer denim
Seducing us simply because she can.
Our vacuum-sealed culture serves her as if
She were a porcelain delicacy,
As if she were the filtered anaglyph
Of internet/tabloid intimacy.
Her eyes project a glossy, lifeless stare.
She's no longer a human, but does she care?
|Jennifer said on 07 October 2018:|
|What was sang from thy tongue of thee Angel of Death that her lyrics seem to be that of a hollow collage of glittery nothing, to hear thee tongue of thy Angel of Death speak or sing most be a deadly but yet a beautiful phenomenon|