I met a Maid; her eyes were tinder

Her hair was finely curved…

And nothing could her feelings hinder.

She wanted me. I hated her.



The day was gloomy; rain poured down

The House was dark and cold.

The Church reminded the whole town

About a tale gone old.



How many men did she deceive?

I’d many rumours heard:

Took everything she could retrieve,

Yet all the bodies burned.



She has a yard of empty flesh,

A vault of hearts and souls.

Yet she wants more; she needs them fresh

To fill her empty holes.



She was of herculean strength

Her nails were stained with blood.

Her clothes were two metres in length

To show her maidenhood.



She gave her serfs a long embrace

And drove their lives away.

They soon forgot it in a haze

And to her sides they swayed.



Oh maiden, why were you so sharp?

Why did you pierce my soul?

It hurts incredibly! My heart

Will nevermore be whole.



Accursed device! I was not born

To end my life in you!

My organs were all pinned and torn,

And flies around them flew.



I have been tortured past my sense,

“All for the mighty Lord.”

The Maiden was my grave. So dense

Was her embrace, so hoard!



I met a Maid; her eyes were tinder,

Her hair was finely carved…

And no one could their judgement hinder.

I have been shamed and starved.



The Iron Maiden killed me off.

A spirit, left behind

Without a body and a soul

Is to this world confined.