Charming, passionate

the words string them along letters dancing

around the room to the beat of her song.

Her singing compulsion, a siren’s call,

bending the will of those listening along.

Unfortunately for her I can see

through the glowing and the singing,

able to disregard her wild tonic that breaks up sweetly.

I hear, even if it’s ever so faintly,

a clear artificial tone that is cold and pitiful.

After all she is just a girl,

with a voice full of money playing murmurous tricks.