If Beauty Went Stale

When sky is black,

and sea is red,

when none look up,

for sun is dead.

When earth is scorched.

And life is waste.

When the few left run,

fleeing in haste.

We were still stunned,

and left in awe

of how beautiful

was the end we saw.

When I lay bleeding

on bed of hay

wanting nothing but

life to go away

What I could still see

plain as day

was the dust in the light.

Beauty- come what may.

So I have to ask you

now that we've spoke.

Now that I've been clear:

How I am the slave

and beauty the yoke.

How can you look up

and see the sky,

but to you

it isn't a looking glass.

It's what you see with your eye.

It's just hydrogen reflecting

light that is blue.

Somehow

the beauty is lost

on a shell like you.

Why is this fluid

and intricate rhyme

nothing but frivolity

and a waste

of your oh so precious time?

For me, I find

that beauty is real

I stand and I scream

with passion and zeal.

This world and the others-

the one's that I make.

Are miraculous and wonderful,

but you made a mistake.

I think that beauty

is timeless and old,

but people like you

make me question the fold.

How can a person

a writer you claim-

be so bored with beauty?

It drives me insane.

How can you look me

dead in the eye

and not see the beauty

beneath a dying, cobalt sky?

Reviews

[itai]

wow!! very intricate.' how can you look me dead in the eye and not see the beauty beneath a dying, cobalt sky?

[William Coad]

Thank you, I try my best.