She cries because she hides in plain sight
Her darkened wings rarely catch light
From her beak to her feet,
Clothed in black
Her feathered language speaks through the night
Anger and hate fade to disbelief
A cautionary tale, but who is the beast?
And who then is Beauty?
Does she only exist in books?
Concerned only with wit to cover her looks.
Beauty, she is not
So she won't use her eyes
Beauty, a false idol crafted with lies
Good things and bad thjngs, she doesn't Invision things that way
The color of sight for her is just gray
For her blindness and blackness
She blames her creator
For if he did love her,
Why act as if he hate her?
If she could not attract his light,
Why did he make her?