Beauty and the Beast

Eyes a soft sweet hazel,

Hair shimmering like gold,

Lips as sweet as honey,

A smile to break the cold.

A face of angelic looks,

A heart as pure as can be,

All about her is lovely,

That's why she is called Beauty.

A raging temper,

Not easily tamed,

Wild crazy eyes,

Hair like a tangled mane.

Patience set at zero,

No kindness to say the least,

All know and fear him,

He is known as the Beast.

The most unlikely couple,

Beauty and the Beast,

Somehow she could love and tame him,

Make him smile in the least.

All were in awe of the two,

The oddest couple on earth,

No one knew what could have sparked,

This strange relationship's birth.

For many years Beauty grew,

In love and splendor,

Her words were never sweeter,

Her touch never more tender,

Than for her love,

Than for her Beast.

The Beast, he grew too,

A little gentler every day,

But inside his temper was mounting,

Though he did not know a way,

To calm the storm inside him,

That grew stronger day by day.

And then one night,

The fever broke,

And he roared madly,

As Beauty hid and cried sadly.

For once even she,

Could not tame the Beast,

It seemed as if his anger had grown,

And it was ready to feast,

On innocent souls,

And tender hearts.

The Beast was worse than ever,

He tossed furniture,

And pulled his hair,

With no idea that Beauty was near.

He heard the sobs,

And saw the figure,

Behind the door,

As he drew closer.

But he was insane,

And could do nothing,

To stop himself,

And save his Beauty.

A knife found its way into his hand,

And Beauty could not find the way out.

She was too in love

To leave the Beast,

Even in the midst

Of his maddening feast.

The knife came down,

Its edge was sharp,

And it found the way,

Right into that beautiful heart.

The Beast, still mad,

Heard her last cry,

And was brought back to reality,

When he saw his Beauty die.

In a maddening rush,

He ran about the house,

Screaming more than he had,

When his mind was gone.

He looked back down,

At her still figure,

Drenched with blood,

For her had killed her.

He pulled his hair,

And cried out in pain,

And then used his knife,

To take his own life.

A coffin made of marble,

A body cold as stone,

Beauty was still so,

Even by the tomb.

A name engraved on a rock,

A praying angel placed on top,

And people wept and mourned,

As Beauty was buried the next morn.

A wooden casket,

Set in place,

Not a single tear,

On a single face.

Placed near his love's,

Final lovely bed,

For the Beast,

Only blood had been shed.