The Beast

As a young and handsome prince,

He was spoiled through and through.

His heart was cold and lonely;

A perfect example of judging

Books by their covers.

Though the books were often women.

An old maid came to him for help.

He turned away from her ugliness,

Only to be blinded by magic.

She truly was a beautiful enchantress.

Though it was too late for redemption.

Now he must fall in love,

And she must learn to love him

For the beast he has become.

Years went by in his dark castle.

Where did he spend his time?

He never learned to read,

Could no longer hold utensils,

Could no longer bask in the sun,

Could no longer dance at a ball.

His lonely heart grew dark and fearful;

Yet he always held hope,

Showing it to no one.

He knew his day in the sun would come.

He painted his life as it was,

His life as it should be.

Distraught that he had ruined his portrait,

He painted his story as best he could.

He dreamt of children ice skating.

He saw the face of a woman who knew

Unconditonal love like no other.

In his mind he called her Beauty.

For what is a woman who knows love like that?

What is a woman who lives for others?

He painted this life he wanted to live.

He played the piano;

Mozart was his favorite.

His mother used to play to him.

She would sit him close to her

And she would play for hours.

He remembered her happiness,

And so he played for her.

He tended to his garden for his father.

The roses were his favorite;

Bright reds, vivid pinks, some yellows.

Each rose resembling a different lifetime,

Each rose tells a story all it's own.

As a young child, he never understood

But now, he realized he was the rose.

The rose was his family and his heart;

It was the ticking time bomb in his bedroom.

And, after all these years,

He finally saw a woman drawing near.

A beautiful woman in blue.

Her name, you may ask,

Was Belle.