The sun rises to the beat of her tune,

The earth, the skies, shrouded by her perfume.

The queen of beauty; A wondrous bird.

Loved by the people, all sans her.

A mirror shows features, but truly shows soul,

How can they decimate this wondrous jewel?

For the mirror cracks due to one's past,

She will fall much deeper, as long as they last.

The past, a scar, made by the beasts,

Of shallow man ready for the lusted feast.

For a magnet is she of devious men,

Uses me as a rock, to step closer to them.

She does not view the empathic one,

The one with the love, who will never be gone.

She is the one bottle, on one shelf.

But one can't love others 'till they love one's self.