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Saturday, November 19, 2011

The Prison Cell

Just a teaser from my book


Ice mixed with frost, the snow falls,
on the coldest, darkness nights
revealed a rose with many flaws.
The thorns that prick,
yet so subtle and beautiful,
quickly falling for its trick.
The beast that hides
in her snow covered kingdom,
anyone who enters slips and slides.
Yet, she doesn’t mind, not at all,
she covers what he believes to be
an ugly face, hideous with flaws
like the rose she leaves
for a person so fair and kind,
but who wants to stay amidst a cold breeze?
Auntie Beast, Auntie Beast, don’t hide,
Your flaws are only seen on the surface—
We all have them; the one who doesn’t slip and slide
Or find the cold breezes and snow
Bearable or at least tolerable,
Is this too good to be true, no?
But, yes, why hope with this pain,
Someone like them has been here before,
And my heart and face they did slain.
Take my hand, Auntie Beast,
And take this rose,
It is in the least
That it has thorns that sting,
Yet we don’t focus on that,
But the hidden beauty that sings—
Beauty is only skin deep
And subject, so ephemeral,
But in our judgment it does seep
And clouds every aspect of our life,
So much so, we forget the person inside
With grief and longing and strife
Are only seen on the outside,
Yet one judges by that,
When someone wants them on their side.
Yet, Auntie Beast opens her lock,
to the sun that looks to replace snow,
“but is this too good? Will there be shock
and horror? Should I trust?
She was comfortable in this abode,
away from a world that would bust,
at least, and break your heart at most—
yet, this Beauty seemed so nice
and it was nice to have someone to host.
Aunt Beast stands at this crossroad,
between the snow and ice and sun
that separates the world from her abode.



           

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