25 July 2012
When the clock strikes 12.
You'll no longer be yourself.
A true kiss of beauty.
With a glow of light.
Waiting for the clock to strike midnight.
Potion to drink.
Beauty masks within a blink.
With your torches & pitch forks.
Trying to knock down my door.
A riot, pushing me to fight it.
Giving way, castle gates.
With an overwhelming hate.
Teeth barred, claws sharp & strong.
Not going without a fight.
Disgusted.
Burn me to the ground hiding me from sight.
Awaiting, the light.
The clock to strikes midnight.
Glowing yellow & bright.
The people cover their eyes.
Putting down their torches.
Opening their eyes to something gorgeous.
No longer a threat.
The secret rose has promisingly paid its debt.
In my plight.
The clocks struck midnight.
Riot in the cold.
Beauty has taken its hold.
Midnight Riot • Opuss № I