Beauty And The Beast Poem by John F. McCullagh

In face and feature, line and grace,
a beauty like few others.
The first blush of her youth now past
Found her a wife and mother.

Her husband was a brutish man
Of gentleness devoid
His psychiatrist’s opinion read:
“Schizophrenic- paranoid”

Beauty’s son was with some friends.
Her bag was packed and ready.
She’d make a clean break with her man-
She’d found a job already.

He’d just been RIF’d that fateful day.
And spent it in a bar
The drink but fueled his darkening rage.
He could barely drive his car.

No witness saw what happened next.-
None lived to testify
But the evidence of her wounds suggests
That Beauty begged to die.

Her picture on the Post’s front page
Displayed a classic beauty.
-The bleeding corpse the coroner saw:
The horror and the pity.