Vestal Virgin Priestess. Poem by Keight Hockey

You're a vestal virgin in a gold leaf chariot,
front seats at the theatre, but you still act a harlot,
and bold declarations you cry out in the dark,
the pontifex has you by his grip, you're there stark,
naked, honesty, a virtue on the list you couldnt mark,
because your two faced deceit, shows a lack of heart,
i'd meet you at the top of the hill, but you oppose democracy,
you'd rather revel in your overwhelming hypocricy,
the romans would have buried you alive,
though prostitution would be your only way to survive,
regardless of your somewhat fronted charm,
it's clear to see you shall always be hidden,
never on an arm,
albeit you seem somewhat guarded to harm,
with your lack of feelings or thought, setting off an alarm,
to anyone who even tries to bother, though i doubt they do,
because, love, you've got a bit of a reputation, havent you?