
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
and
worry
t o u r h e r s o u l a p a r t.
He snarled, she cringed. She hated the beast.
a.l.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world