The beast once had a heart of gold before his heart grew cold,
his eyes were blue, like sea before the bloody red
and in his quest for love, it all got rough and he grew tough.

His gentle touch and smoothing moods was crushed and turned to rust,
his ever-forgiving heart was hunted down and slaughtered to the ground,
to give, he gave, but none to him was given.

He loved to regret but regretted not to love,
for through this walk with thorns that pricked his feet,
and stones that harmed his bones, to mourn he never did.

He cried out too – like thee – constantly breaking free,
but the more he tried, the more he cried,
and when the lilies blossomed, to him it all went woe.

He fought to win – in love and commitment, but the energy fought him,
he turned his head against not love,
but trust – and learned to trust no more.