Bathory

A castle. Deep, dark, grim. A countess, failing complexion and sadistic art Less than perfect skin; hideous and short of vitality Báthory dreamed of acquired youth. Young girl’s blood; heat and life Hung, alive and abandoned, Crimson ponds, a slit throat. Bathe in blood of youth, gleefully indulged, All to restore her youthful glow and flesh. The grim and burning fate of a child, Unspeakable and horrid torture was merely a detail. The mirror showed an angelic complexion. Younger, brighter; beastly, anguished. 600 women dead; drained of blood For her quest of beauty and youth. No regret, no remorse; Only horror.