Beauty Ii Poem by Jilted BUTTERFLY

A more sensitive soul would wilt
crumbling, crushed beneath the glares
smashed against the rock - the beauty

duty, a straight-jacket, forced to look forward
blinkered and gagged, functioning but not living
breathing but not free to act.

free to think though
and in those thoughts free
to do as I please to let it soar
to take revenge - to have the unhaveable
to kiss the unkissable - to ignore the unignorable.

In the mind the sensitive soul can be a warrior
strong to the last breath - to the valiant death