Wicked, wicked, wicked.
That word accurately describes this
fraud.
She knows, she says, she does lots
of evil things.
Regal stance and stoic face can't
hide her nakedness bathing in her
sins.
Pretense wisdom flowed almost
naturally out her mouth.
But most see her vileness seething,
which everybody loathed.
Oh a pity! Loudness can't cloak the
sound of her unjustifiable anguish
and greed.
The aroma of her expensive
perfume couldn't drown the
stench of her disgusting deeds
with such worldly need!
A deceitful maiden; boon to her kind!
I need not say this, it had already
been sculpted in her mind:
No matter to what extent she
attempts to obscure her
foolishness,
Her tainted entirety is displayed
seeming like an art exhibit for us
to see—no more, no less.
For no matter what facade she puts
up, she ain't a saint.