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Online Man Discovers His Salvific Vision of Beatrice
Julianne
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She was lit up as a picture
On his screen when he called her his saint
The floor of his laptop burned him
As he guessed her age. He swore
The moment that he saw her"What was lost
Will now be found" Whether child, girl, or
Woman, angels need a man who's down
It's a dark and lonely bedroom
When she's not there. Close his
Blinds, speak his mind, and make
The keyboards blare
Mother, mother, mother
Only a woman could understand
Worship a picture of his Beatrice, pray
She'll put a good word in
The comments close in on him
In the trenches; no one else
Has the guts to be so honest
He's alone, but he's a soldier
He's a prophet with a plan
With his Beatrice to gaze upon
He can fight off any thread
The wolves are coming, too cunning
In the dark woods. Beatrice
Burns her innocence as his guide, his
Torch, his martyr. The writing
On the entrance warns"Abandon
All your hope" But not even hell's blue fire
Burns beneath a weeping girl
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