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Apr 2018
Beauty snares the supplicants
supping at the poisoned fount
far too late the trap is sprung
as the victims seek for more
there is a story behind the tears
as the mind is turned against
those who follow far behind
also led to toast their chains.

Infancy came with the charge
to walk a path none few would have
after life has savaged them
still the young are brought within
arrayed by surface symmetry
determination is then made
by a world that consumes
with no thought of consequence.

Once the gate has closed behind
those deluded by the charm
run the conveyor with no end
chasing comely will-o-wisps
what came before is soon lost
as the years impose their price
whispering promises falling short
wisdom comes far too late.

Empowerment of the young
a promise made for betterment
becomes the bitter manacles
when the lie is revealed
if only death was an end
once the curse is disclosed
instead the living carry on
to bring fresh beauty to the fount.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180402.
“The Fount” was inspired by Mary Wollstonecraft’s quotation, “Taught from their infancy that beauty is woman’s sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison.”
poetryaccident
Written by
poetryaccident  54/M/Pickens SC
(54/M/Pickens SC)   
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