In The Tower (Inspired by Beauty & the Beast) 

Up in the tower lined with ivy and ruby red flowers

Out of the window standing a figure hidden in shadows

Silently observing all that once made them regal and grand 

With riches and kindness set to astound and warming fires of happiness and hope

All extinguished one fateful day when innocence was lead astray by a darkness calculating and cruel.

The world in the palm of their hands and still they contemplated ways to get more

All the treasures and luck disgraced as though it was nothing more than common muck 

Up in the tower sits the figure solemn and alone, watching time devour the place once known as home 

Driven away in shame and dismay, taken advantage of and lead astray by those who preach one thing and act in the total opposite way 

Yet through the cruelty the figure remained kind, those filled with doubts and a stubborn resolve

To never abandon the prison where their heart and soul is encaved

The mask created by perceptions and assumptions of people jumping to conclusions 

Conjuring up falsehoods and delusions, a past master is society’s behaviour 

The figure grew to linger in the shadows and hide away, never to let their heart be lead astray

Until one day the course of time brought something divine

Intelligent and wise, stirring the mind with questions and wonders of what more could this life hold 

Flicking through the pages, ignoring those who raged and roared, cursing kindness and truth for cruelty and lies, all to gain what society decrees a beautiful prize 

Oh what a surprise when the figure stirs and grows with new resolve

Filled with fear and loneliness that results in streams filled with tears

A single red rose sways in the windy twilight of the ending day 

Up in the tower the figure descends though the torments follow and the dangers grow greater 

Finally the figure has something to risk in order to gain the simplest of prizes, even if it results in a fatal demise 

There is only one life given and it is to be lived, no matter how hard and fatal the blows may have been

Up in the tower the figure will rise, resolve sharpened like the fingers that had been turned into claws

To better themselves and sacrifice it all for the single soul that could bring about the smallest fraction of light in the prison that houses a broken heart and cold soul

Up in the tower the fires begin to roar and and the single red rose begins to bloom anew 

Breaking the curse and restoring the figure to what should have been, all those years ago…

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