one day,
i will tear out my roots
from the pits of the earth
and the depths of my skin
my sprouts will be tainted
with your water no more,
my vines gone
from the poisonous fertilizer
you call love
if i am your flower,
we are in a constant
game of "you love me, you love me not"
i can not seem to tell
which will win in the end,
i think i want it to be a surprise
my petals will be ruined
and ravished by you,
i am falling apart and yet
you tell me i have never looked so pretty
what an honor to be plucked by you
i have never despised roses so much
and when my roots are gone,
when my stem is dry as my tear tracks,
when my petals are plucked and astray,
when my vines are as empty as my mouth,
what am i to do now?
am i still plucked and pretty?
i'm grateful and i'm thankful
and i'm aching for your adoration
plant me again and surround me
with a garden of roses
i've never looked so pretty
oh, but how i love violets
YOU ARE READING
fascinatingly fatal
Poetryi will squeeze my eyes so tight i won't see your evil, i will cover my ears and i will not hear your evil, and i will sew my mouth shut and you will never hear my evil again.
