Seductress, little does she speak

When overcome by fear and pain.

Of want and anguish felt in vain,

The temptress, in her cadence, reeks.

To ashes, go pursuits that seek

To overthrow internal pain,

By placing pleasure’s damning stain

Above the soul’s fulfilling peak.

The succubus won’t lie with those

Who find contentment in their dreams;

Succumbing to her passion’s throes

Sits far beneath their reach, it seems.

Again and more, it’s sure to go

To torch the rot with shining beams.

This is a poem that I first shared on Medium's Poetry In Form publication, where I am a staff writer. I have also shared it on my blog at Cent.Photo by Edu Lauton on Unsplash.