It was only a matter of time before the ugly oozed in, 

Ready to start its game. 

Karma manifested. 

There it was. Real ugly. 

So ugly that the visage was clouded, undefined, like its intentions. 

Desperate, smelling blood.

Another stable collector with no real interest, 

But, having failed to make a capture elsewhere, looking for easier prey,

A cheap lay, 

Someone that would fall for it without a challenge, 

Seeking low-self-esteem.

Desperate. 

A sure doombringer.

Between the ugly, greedy, and dead-eyed, 

There was little option left to her, her own fault, 

And the grains of sand kept falling, slipping away. 

But it was always ugly chosen, worse than the last, 

Trapped in the past, 

Making herself ugly, 

And ready to make the sale at any discount, save the one that should have been made.