Aphrodite's girdle of finely wrought gold,

Wove her magic against your soul.

Now no mirror will look her in the eye,

Their contorted reflections can only lie.

But such is glamour amongst the lusts of life,

When a Goddess rises to our scarlet pride.

The prodigal child that's escaped the heavens,

Has found love, entranced in her reflection.

Cursed by her father for the grace she has spoken,

She taints her eyes as her vanity's awoken:

With every white-pearl earring and diamond necklace,

She succumbs to the seeping girdle's bitter taste.

Nowhere to go at the height of her perversion,

She's trapped by the flaws of human imperfection.

Risen from the ocean of her majestic glory,

Her worn, ageing face tells a different story.

She clutches the Gods girdle to her chest, waiting alone,

For her forsaken father to envelop her and take her home.