There lived once a beast,
In the castle beyond the wall,
Alone in the dark,
With his dogs many ferocious,
Yet none tied and free to run,
Was this the beauty of the beast?
Flowers many did bloom,
As the season changed,
The trees smiled and birds chirped,
As he fed them,
With his own big hands,
Was this the beauty of the beast?
But children never came,
Into his own made heaven,
His teeth scared them away,
So did the dogs,
Who just wanted to play, for,
Once feel a hand on their neck.
Then came the little one,
One day alone,
Sneaking in with plenty a noise,
And up the tree he ran,
Eating the fruit alone,
Smiling to himself- a smirk.
Danger saw the beast,
As the bark had almost cracked,
Running with his dogs,
To save,
Yet seen to chase,
As the tiny one scampered,
Was this the beauty of the beast?
Settled in the winter,
And the beast died of heat,
His head burning,
In an unending fever,
As the dogs cried,
And his heart slept.
They came to check,
To see the beast,
In the silent aftermath,
Scared yet smiling,
Waiting to see skeletons,
Left-overs from his meals.
There was nothing,
Other than vegetable scrubs,
As the dogs cried,
And the birds chirped,
Wanting their caretaker back,
Was this the beauty of the beast?
They had been wrong,
Mistaken by appearance,
Misled by figure,
The heaven had been theirs,
And not his alone,
Yet not taken,
For this was,
The beauty of the beast.
