Look beneath your pristine shell, woman,

deep into the cobwebbed crevice that cradles your heart

and gasp in horror at the sight and the stench

that meets your deadened senses.

No amount of shiny shimmering splendid

in this world or beyond

will mask the decaying inner being

that you so casually deny.

Yet there is hope still for salvation

while that mutilated heart is beating

if only it will learn to beat for what is right

and what is true and what is just.