She was my beauty,
And my beast...

I write poetry and prose,
to me the mind is no rose...

Things are brave,
things are weak...

There are no reinforcements here,
it is just me...

Tonight is the night of everlasting contempt.
Here, with great fear. I spent a year locked in...

From the parlor to the parkway,
Peeking purely 'round the causeway...

Above my head a looming structure.
An ominous figure of our lady grace's discontent...

The blood of many lies here in these hills.
The tears of children in this magical land...

True friend of mine,
Hold me deep within your sorrowful bosom...