Rose: A Sonnet

His skin was thin, discolored green, with pikes-
The beast that dwelt within the castle’s bars.
The white old man was withered, shaking like
A brittle prisoner of a bitter dark.

The prisoner flapped his arms and begged. The beast,
With prickles piercing through his serpent cheeks,
With greedy eyes, a child before sweets,
Revealed unto his prey his thorny teeth.

A girl, her face with passion blossomed red,
Grew up the stairs to plead her father free.
Her voice was like a sword. The beauty bled
With love, though both at first refused her plea.

She cut him with a gaze of living green;
The beast the beauty conquered and made clean.

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