I knew a little monster
I called him, “petit-bête.”
He was my pretty china doll,
He was my fragile pet.

I saw him walking down the street
Towards that old country road,
But something wasn’t right with him
Something he wouldn’t show.

From my perch I studied him,
And was relieved to see
How brightly shined his cheerful eyes
And gleamed his happy teeth.

I apologize if this disturbs
Or is a bit contrived,
But something changed that boy into
A monster before my eyes.

That happenstance-I stole a glance
When a corner ‘round he turned.
His guard had dropped, and that which I saw
Made the fire in my belly burn.

His eyes deep pits of rage
And, choking on my gasp,
My trembling legs fast rumbled towards
That tortured heart he grasped.

Then petit-bête was sitting,
Just staring at the wall
Clutching with warm hands of health
A smile so white, so tall.

“Deception must have stirred!” said I,
“Waking from her sleep-
Invoking fear in my trained eyes,
Where it need not be!”

So there he sat and growled out
His chipper little tune.
My monster and his .45
Lost a battle with the truth.