From Beast to Man

I sit in my castle,

Watching. Waiting.

Time is a precious thing, especially

When measured by the falling of rose petals.

 

Rain patters on my patio,

How I wish it would wash away

My matted fur, lion mane, wolf tale,

My bearish body, boarish tusks,

Buffalo beard.

 

And yet I know, mere water, with all its cleansing nature,

Can do nothing to change my beastly nature.

A sigh escapes my hopeless lips.

No, that change comes only from within.

 

I hear a crash in the forbidden west wing. Belle.

I bellow.

My ravenous roar reverberates off the stony walls,

rattling the dusty teacups.

How dare she disobey me, knowing, as she does,

Exactly who I am,

Rash rage and all.

 

Even so, she remains.

She sees in me what I can just barely make out:

A man.

But what she does not know is that time running out.

The clock ticks, and the petals fall.

Until there is but one left.

One petal of hope is all that remains

Before my beastly features become permanent.

 

Ellis knows the power of hope.

Proteus knows the power of transformation.

And Aisa knows my fate is in my own hands.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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