Listen good to her whispers faint,
Be fooled not by her guise, sly
Not all that glitters, is gold
For a past once haunted a saint
And there is such a thing,
That Beauty is beast.
She wears her heart on her sleeve
And in the depth of night, cries herself to sleep
Not all is told in a picture’s caption
Her cupboard of skeletons is creaking.
And there is such a thing,
That Beauty is beast.
Trouble in paradise, yet supposed nonchalance,
That rainbow of a smile veils her gloom.
Not all roads, have been to greener pastures,
She holds all in, but the cracks dance
And there is such a thing,
That Beauty is beast.
bowendiaries 