I, The Beast Poem by Aven Black

I, the beast, that cry at the heart of a world -in disdain
That so solemnly and plainly doth dwell in pain:
To hurt one so in one’s core -
Where Love doth dwell evermore,
Amongst unsteady horizons of hope,
While thieves -one’s love- elope

Yet one can ne’er give in,
Lest not commit a sin
Upon view of one’s foundations
-Unknown of one’s frustrations:
Doth any mortal coil deem so drained of life
-As when upon the blade of Love’s knife?

Forced, one is, to cry with rain,
Torture, it is, to feel such pain
Releasing –such as the wind- a sigh
When Love’s time is s’posedly nigh
And all of Love pass on by:
Forgets and… goes awry!

Bring unto me, the beast, at the heart of a world-
One alone Upon my cursed throne.
How you will… Why you will…
In manner or reason no meaning’s beared
-This, I have now declared!
Bring to me, the beast, what I cannot grasp,
Bring to me, the beast, what I cannot have-
…Bring to me Love: So I may, at least, for once, hold it in my hands

If need be, I shall return it after … sigh.