You remember the Beast of "Beauty and the Beast"? This be a poem from his point of view.


Forever broken, so they say.

Always shattered, wings—did I have wings?—in tatters,

Tarnished halo fallen to my feet.

And these glittering claws in place of hands—

Oh, how I miss my nimble fingers.

Is this punishment not a bit much?


Heavy fur in place of flowing locks;

Doubled in size, all lumbering limbs.

I had to learn to walk again.

Beady eyes that can't see in light,

And a roar to shatter the sky—

How I long to sing, but can only howl,

And I never take off this cowl.


I'm always hungry now, can never be sated.

I prowl around the castle, all gilded and dusty,

Searching for something, though I'm never sure what.

The servants, also cursed, mutter when they think I can't hear,

But my hearing is superb—I long for silence, and never find it, either.

My only joy in the midst of all this torment are the roses.


I never realized, when I wore my first form,

That flowers glimmering in the rain could be so beautiful.

I find that now, after becoming such a blemish on the world,

I appreciate beauty all the more.

And it pains me most that I've no one to talk to,

To share my epiphany.


When she cursed me, that witch

though, I know now, 'tis my own fault—

I wanted to die, to leave behind all the pain caused by being such a monster.

But as I fled into the night, full of terror and horror,

I saw them gleaming in the moonlight, lit as from Heaven.

My mother's roses, her triumph—perfect and flawless and

As beautiful as I am grotesque.

I'd never noticed before, in my life of debauchery,

And now—now I see it all the time, and it fills me with joy.


Crimson red with leaves of emerald,

Thorns that can no longer pierce my skin,

Silk-soft petals I cannot feel through my thick pads,

And how they gleam in the sun, how they shimmer,

Recalling to mind lost innocence.

And I cannot speak with the servants—I know they wouldn't understand.

And that one rose, the most beautiful one, is cursed to show

The death of my human half—


Time runs short, here in the castle—

Soon I shan't even be able to speak, as my voice grows hoarser and coarser.

And the servants tiptoe, as best they can, and still always get on my nerves.

I can't help it—I'm falling apart, bit by bit, shedding my humanity with my fur.

And they whisper of the curse, how it'll never be broken,

And I flee into the garden with the roses.


I fall to my knees, soaking in their scent, and long to cry.

Tears were lost with fingers, though, and I can only weep inside.

Can only sob my hardest in dreams, half-remembered upon awakening,

Dreams and nightmares mingled as I long for what I used to be.

And perhaps I haven't learned my lesson yet—could that be it?

Will this curse break if I learn my lesson?

Will it ever be shattered, as shattered as me?


Forever broken, so they say.

Always shattered, wings—did I have wings?—in tatters,

Tarnished halo fallen to my feet.

And these glittering claws in place of hands—

Oh, how I miss my nimble fingers.

Is this punishment not a bit much?


What Beauty could ever love a Beast?