Outer beauty shows

And throws

Shadows of distraction.

The  magnet feels an attraction

To steel

And is drawn to seal

Its destiny in unholy communion,

A union of empty clang

And bang.

 

The fine façade

Hides a hard

Truth.

The roof

Is rotten

And forgotten

Woodworm Has eaten through

The fine oak beams

Which, at first sight it seems

Should hold true.

 

The magnet will rue

The day it did settle

On metal

Base.

Yet to the beautiful face

It is drawn,  As a fly

To the sty,

Where it will wallow

In hollow

Joys, then die.