He felt a pain surge up his body, as he sat rocking on his chair,
"You are hollow inside, ridden with the ugliness of sin", the voice echoed within his brain.
He remembered his first sin, the day when he broke her heart,
"Poor being, fragile at heart, she din't desrve my love", he consoles himself.
"What is a man without his soul", his shadow reproached him in the dark,
"But i have an everlasting youth, full of beauty", he argued back.
"Have you seen the sins that mar your heart, with lines of guilt uglier than that of age?"
"Alas its not me who ages, or who loses his beauty", he sighed a reply
He slowly gets up from the chair, his hands tremble with the fear of unknown,
His steps are heavy, as he moves closser to the velvet screen,
His eyes are weary, so is his soul, afraid, he moves the screen that hides his shame,
His eyes shut themselves in disgust, at the sight of the ugliness that greets them
He recalled the beautiful summer evening, as he replaced the screen over the portrait
The evening which had stirred the lust of beauty in him, which had instilled the fear of age
His words from the evening played across his mind, as he left the room which housed his sin,
A glitter of unfailing youth filled his eye, as a line of wickedness swept across the portrait,
Beauty is a sin, he had heard them say, envying his youth, as they aged,
For some, an innocent admiration, and for others a lustful shame,
Knowledge he lusts for, as he owns beauty and vanity, as his sin,
His heart knows no love, nor he feels the need for compassion.
For his heart died the day he exchanged his soul with that of the portrait's
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