For my beauty looking for her beast

A story is told of the gorgoyle of rich tower
With a brisk smile and African hair.
With peirced ears and dyed hair,
His speech was returded. Some say he had an accent,
His skin was pale and his teeth brown.
He smoked, smoked his heart away,
As they passed they looked to him,
With his strong muscles.
They said he could fight ten men at a go.
But his promiscous nature made him fall,
Yet in his heart he knew the truth, the truth about everything.
He didn't know what they felt.
He knew what he loved.
As his big beard touched the town's floor.
The tatoos on it showed the people the truth.
Gave them their heart's desires.
Some were of fire and eternal misery,
Some of loyalty and blood
And some of wrechedness and evil
But the gorgoyle did not mind,
He sat on, he stared on,
The smoke flowing from his hands and feet,
His eyes,  his eyes, they glow with love and happiness,
He wished well for the ants,
His heart,  the sculptor made of marble,
Yet i saw him cry one day,
His tears of fire like a dragon's salaiva,
They burnt into his visage,
Her breasts burnt with every moarn,
I laughed at her, what kind of life this was,
Yet she spoke like thunder,
Her locks of hair,
Silver like her breath,
She sat, she saw. As they pulled her down,
Broke her stone heart let the fire in her eyes consume her soul,
Bitter like her blood,  the hounds died after licking their wounds,
She had no teeth,  yet she consumed every man's soul.
Inside her beard a knife,
Like a stack of hay  in a needle
She hid it,
Cutting all including herself,
As she burnt the steam she produced made my neighbors strong.
Her ashes made the ocean blue and the trees green.
She will surely live a painful life.

Kk
1/1/2015