A gargoyle muses on its lost heavenly past and fallen triumph.
In my dream life
living inside my master’s head
I was not so cold stoned rife
With heart that no longer bled.
These teeth like daggers
Adorning my snarl
Were not so laggard
In turning a smile.
My bald pate and bat ears
Were winged, covered angelic gold crown.
There was nothing to fear
By those looking up where I looked down.
What turned my fate nightmare instead
And created this look of quite ugly dread?
Was it argument between man and wife?
Or stomach-churning meal burned beyond delight?
Whatever it was that put me up here,
In this stark lookout become my steady dispair.
I have one claim to renowned gruesome fame
My copies climb everywhere in sight just the scary same.
20 line ABAB poem for the Personification contest