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Muse
She's unaware of how much angels glare
Of how much light bends for her
She has an eye of a fox
She looks at you, and your soul locks
She has the majesty of a white rose
I resent, sometimes she fixes her orbs on her thorns
I call it a woman's beauty throes
When she scorns her face, I know that the demon mourns
When she covers her face
I wanna shower her with praise
Give her a piece of my mind
That she is the muse of my verse, her name I underlined
- February 21, 2024
© Rarity
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