He Snarled, She Cringed

   There was no beauty and the beast,

rather, they were one in the same. The

beast inhabited the beauty's soul. 

She may have looked beautiful, stunning even,

perhaps her eyes were the color of the sunset at twilight,

her lips as soft as rose petals. But as ravishing as the beauty was, the beast raged a war within

her heart.

And he shook with laughter when the beauty succumbed to his power.

When tears streamed from her eyes



t o u r    h e r    s o u l    a p a r t.

He snarled, she cringed. She hated the beast.


This poem is about: 
Our world