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Beauty Is Lost

My soul is but a toy,
and I, a ragdoll in your arms -
helpless when touched by you -
you bid me to bend and I break.

My scars are battle-made,
for love is a war;
lies are the weapons used in this -
you've plunged your sword into me several times.

My dreams are like the roses,
beautiful, but with thorns;
when I tread within my garden,
thorns reach out for me and flowers die.

My mind is like a fire,
burning all within its midst -
even I am swallowed in the blaze,
for it is my never-ending Hell.

All beauty is lost -
all beauty in the Beast -
for things that I once held so dear
will bring the death of me.

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