Lust as a topic never ends.
(Feed the fire, Primadonna!)
Ripe with generous dividends.
(Flames licking, fire tickling.)
Someone always suffers in the end.
(Self-loving, vain, narcissistic fire.)
Betrayed by a would-be friend.
(Her addiction to violence: insufferable!)
A special kind of storm she brews–one to tear and rend
(She won’t stop, can’t stop, GAWD, she loves it!)
For this occasion, she’ll conjure up a love-starved vortex . . . What a pleasant gift to send!
(The witch has made up her mind; someone’s gonna die.)
A ‘demon wind tunnel’ she’ll call it. For a special friend . . .
(Primadonna sorceress: mess her up, and she’ll mess right back!)
She’ll add a touch of fire–her specialty–fire without end.
(Tickle, tickle, the flames will go; when the food’s gone, the flame shall move on.)