Unholy Dove

Short freestyle poem

She turned to walk away,
And then she began to sway,
Each step she took,
He couldn't help but look,
As she began to twirl,
His heart started to whirl,
And as he fell,
They both were condemned to hell,
Sweet and gentle, A flower,
Wrong and rough, and sour,
Contradicting facts,
He knew it was just an act,
She was destined for fame,
All he wanted was her name,
She danced more and more,
His spirits began to soar,
He was a delicate bird,
caught in a stampede of a heard,
For it is now dawn,
And she has come and gone.