Lara in the streets of moscow
Beauty, diamond hard, hard as the snow.
Blood and pain congeal around her
Cooled to a shell by the frigid air.

Touch her if you dare; she burns those who come near
And forever will they bear her mark.
A jewelled basilisk, she turns her stare
On those unfortunates she never wanted to ensnare
And they are hers, unwanted. Will she never
free herself of this concealing shell of beauty?

Lara give bread to the blind beggar
Hoping he will see beyond her face.