She sees men as many do,
As a beast with poisoned eyes.
Her own vision painted with contempt.
She sees the beast lying there:
Not dead, but sleeping,
Not alive but constructed,
Build with circuits and copper and malice.
She can tell you what love looks like,
The color of his hair and eyes.
But she is a cartoon chaser.
Careful with her paper disguise.
Ready for sound and color,
Yearning to drink from the fire,
But driven back by the smoke and flames.
I see her anger and her fear,
The fear melting with her contempt.
She looks at me with an ancient suspicion
Born not of my history but of hers.
I watch it simmering there, waiting.
Waiting for her chance
to conform now,into the past.
To bind this new history
to the lies of her past.
The only one’s she will ever believe in.
- Review: The Governess and the Beast by Karyn Gerrard (romancereadergirl.com)
- What isn’t the Beast? (thebeastwithinyou.wordpress.com)
- The Full Moon (dropsofanguish.wordpress.com)
- Transformers beast hunters hunt answers (binweevilsbroadcasters.wordpress.com)