A noceur he was,
and this, her innocence was tainted, with youthful curiosity,
Seeing the chaos painted,
Only to find out,
She was dangerously attracted to that animosity.
To a life she has never lived, like a wine untasted.
But ready she was
And dove in blindly,
Wine turned to poisons
As he whispered to her kindly,
he told her tales of wonder until several rising suns.
she hooked herself upon something ill fated.
The wine untasted, now a poison done.
Innocence gone, like those several rising suns.