It lays wrecked, as if it turned to stone when it tried to get up. The moon is frozen, and the sky is blowing with a rain of blood and poisoned brass.
No longer supported by it's long broken arms, the fangs and claws it beared took away the last treasure of happiness, love, and of peace, that it came upon with sparkling eyes.
Among the ruins of this now shattered monument, the noble beast whimpers and whimpers.
In a world where no belief is held, no reason is tought of, and no sense is given or made.
In a world where there is no hope, there is no love, there is no trust.
With fangs and claws that took a beast far away, skin was shredded, flesh was torn, and bones were broken and ripped away, away from that profile.
In a world where there are only bitter tears, awaiting to fall down, the beast wonders if its dead and broken will and purpose, true love and sense will all still be there when all the diamond drops finally roll down to the earth.
But it hopes for it, right there, and right now.
And maybe, it will be a being freed from its curse, once more and again.
