There isn’t a doctor anywhere around

You’ll have to be my muse.

The stench you’ve left in haste

Was very close to abuse.

She’s a dangerous concoction of a lady

Waiting out the storm.

What you, yourself, would run from

Seems to be her norm.

There were senseless acts of cruelty

Aimed directly at the wrong men.

She’d lost her use of discord

But got the right one every now and then.

Humans are not very tangible

They don’t give what they get.

Stupidity, like standing out in the rain

Then wondering why they get wet.

She’s lost a lot of faith in humanity

But would love to get all that back.

She’s a little left of center

And certainly not on the right track.

While you wonder about her motivation

She certainly wonders about yours.

Are you truly out to get what you deserve

And is that really found in whores?

The forest (french)