The birthmark becomes a burned
imprint upon thy soul.
Gleaming, red hot poker
Perfection believed, yet imperfection
stands as a reminder
Ceasingly apparent without
any avail.
Forever seen displayed upon
the check of the fair maiden.
Beauty disappears through the
vanity of her suitor’s soul.
Once considered life’s glory,
Pygmalion gives the angel
her Elixir Vitae, but fate
looks cruelly upon their greed.
Fate takes the angel to observe
from afar her alchemist’s
external woe.