Literature
Was Beauty, Now Beast
Coming back again, the same situation,
Everything has changed due to my perpetration.
Beauty used to be in every word that I speak,
But I spat so much poison, that I can barely squeak!
I used to write a fantasy and now I'm simply dreamless,
I'm struggling with this sickness, it leaves me solely listless,
Or maybe I'm just soulless, my eyes are milky blind,
Where once I saw the beauty; I only see the grind
It should be a crime, a poet falling low,
The world has lost an artist; it gained a rapper though.
But all I have is acid, recriminating bile,
My style is simply vile; I've lost the will to smile.
But maybe if I try, I might get something