Through life's endeavors, we listen to the murmurs of our hearts; chastise our minds deliberations, dismissing the iniquities of man. What kind of love possesses a soul to the mere point of destruction? A love that is decorous and wicked simultaneously.
With these thoughts and shattered dreams I managed to write a poem of my thoughts of my once handsome prince, angel sent from heaven, and knight in shining armor:
“My handsome prince has become an ugly peasant of malice and less grace.
He has dethroned his queen and replaced her with an unwilling princess.
His armor no longer shines, hence, serves as a rusty urn for the queen’s tears.
His angelical wings have disappeared from his shoulders, as the visibility of Satan’s horns appears; replacing the halo, which once shined our way to the heavens.”
