The walls of beauty

The ruler of charm,
The queen of grace,
The king of uncomparible beauty.

When thus lies your moulted face upon their breast,
Sink in an impeccable slumber,
Not even the shakes of the earth could wake.

When she shines that radiant smile,
It fills your heart with glee,
For who are you to be so lucky and stand before the queen?

He who hums so softly in your wiry mop,
And ignores your face distorted by snot,
As you sob because you are not him.

Yet you do not know that behind the walls of their throbbing heart,
She sits in a pool of blood, her own flesh and blood,
As he tears his own self apart.

Their cries fall upon death ears,
For nobody cares for what she feels.
So here he is, do you still want to be:

The ruler of charm,
The queen of grace,
The king of uncomparible beauty.