Is beauty a beast?
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Beauty is a cloak, curtain,
(of this much, I am certain)
that can mask ones’ dark soul, rot.
You can swim in the mire …
a corpse of lust and desire …
or give all the love you’ve got.

Fate is not taking chances
being wise in romances.
Beauty is sought out a lot
but inside, though it’s empty
there’s no room for empathy.
Beauty tends to be a snot.

Open the dark drapery
and in the sunlight you’ll see
beauty basks in misery
to glow in the darkest night.
Out of mind and out of sight,
she’s self-centered, seeks money.

If, perchance, my curtain’s there,
pull it off and give me air …
wish not to mock purity.
With heads too big hearts seize, shrink,
dwell on riches, diamonds, mink.
If I should change, please tell me.