Spring-hued skin stretched like canvas

Over thin and desperate bones.

This portrait painted with scorn

Of one who deals justice in flames.

Cast out from reality, chided by those

Who would not now stand her glance

Lest suffer paranormal wrath.

Racism toughened her ears,

Seeped between them sloshing out

All that once was passion.

Dusty skull remains, and gnarled finger

Dictates with lethal authority

Next victim of her lemon sour revenge

In necromancer despotism.