A Poem of Malice to a girl i love dearly

Her evil eyes...beady, penetrating my soul,
As a demon might do with a sword caked in rotting blood,
Thus it does pain me in an immortal fashion
To be near her, indeed, never have I felt the wrath of a goddess
Of death and suffering, before her pandemonium shadowed my step
Her soul, aye, let us speak of it,
What left of it there is to speak of.
A torn and charred rag, a thing which a dying wolf would be loath to sniff
Or even be around, as so many others
Yes, alone is she in a thriving world
They say for every human a counterpart exists,
They said nothing on hell blasted entities such as herself
I say of them, let them stay in the dimension with other ruins
Failures of life, wastes and shells where an energy serene should glow

Atop of her head, I see in reflection
For chary am I to view it with my own orbs of observation
Is a string-like mass, coated in grime, sweat, oil
Her frail form too is like a string, an old string left on a cliff
In dire hope of its strengthening through the weather, but alas
It has shriveled up into a clump of unwanted mass
A wad of bone discarded by the starving hound
But how can the pour canine be blamed?
I have yet to meet another human, no, anything
Who can say sincerely, ‘I love that girl’
Unlovable is she, unaffectionate one cannot help but be
Undeserving she is of anything more
She is a flaw, a crime against perfection
Nay! Against beauty and light!
Cannot you see it? It, that thing taking up a niche in the Universe?
No? Than believe that it is as with Prometheus
Who in an attempt to give man his meat and lose it not in sacrifice
Covered shreds of scraggly, unedible meat with whole and healthy beef.
What terrible force of Satan’s could have delivered this evil to humankind?
For what crime are we being punished for?
I know not nor can guess a logical reason; perhaps she is an escapee of Hell
She is the ambassador of Tartarus and the convict of Another Plane
Unwanted is she in this otherwise thriving world.