Beauty was her name, sweet child made of love,
whom all declared was an angel sent from above.
Her smile brought light to the darkest of nights,
her gentle, loving touch turned all wrongs into rights.
Her eyes offered refuge, deep within her soul,
a place where even the most broken of men became whole.
Beauty's heart was pure, and held compassion for all,
but in the end it was love that would be her downfall.
Beauty fell for a man whose heart had turned cold,
who, though his demeanor was frigid, she had longed to hold.
Day and night she pursued him, but always to no avail,
but Beauty was determined, and she had refused to fail.

She woke him with a poem, and at night sung him to sleep,
Beauty fell into love's ocean, which had proved to be too deep.
Still, she sought to find hope in his desolate eyes,
when she saw there was none, she held back her agonized cries.
Beauty mourned her loss, and searched for affection,
but everywhere she turned, she was met with rejection.
Those who once loved her, saw the change that took place,
the grimace that supplanted the smile once on her face.
Beauty's touch became rough, she could no longer smile,
she became daunted, everlastingly docile.
Her desperate pursuit of that man had turned her soul hollow,
what she sought as love had become Beauty's sorrow.