Beautiful mistress,
Owning her own candlestick-
Smacking its tight lips against each other,
As if it happens to the best of us.
Diligent moves,
The clasp breaks wind through the dust-
A becoming of the monster that strikes the fists,
And danger proceeds in the valley of the night.
Dam* the change that stews between the moods,
Knowingly watching alter in character-
Poured rain drops to its fingertips,
And tears run down the cheeks of the unusual being.
Questioning whether the changes aren’t in fact what they seem to be,
But a twist in personality-
Only surviving its own kind and similar faces,
That once knew she would never change but continue to be.
Jubilant and unmodified nonetheless,
The being resorted to its old self-
Out of pride or dignity,
The natural face came out to show what was once there.
Always room for more when you create the home,
Steadily exuberant and quietly wise-
Neutrality is always expected,
From the ones that exercise.
Burning wood is the start of the beginning to establish,
End of the tracks, nothing left to play-
But the creature of demise,
Once its own self was tired of the games played.
Underline meaning behind its events,
Becomes metal when future prevents wisdom’s growth-
The Three Faces of Jenny will always exist,
In the mind of the reader.
Bethann
(I'm in Advanced Placement Art, and I had to do a portrait. "Jenny" is who I drew tonight, and I wanted to write a poem that went along with the theme.)
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