She is a landmine
She is the gallows pole
She is a trenchline in Normany
She is the Stalingrad battlefield
She is a Red Baron crashing into a dreadnought
She is demolition-spun disaster
A creature driven to destroy
By utmost innocence of desire
To be what it likes to be.
She will not harm you
She will not even touch you
She will not crave to inflict damage
Though she will utterly annihilate you
By sheer refutation to have its strings
Attached.