it was easy for you to give me roses without cutting off the thorns,
for you to spoon feed me with pretty deceit.
i gave you two, you took three.
i gave you three, you took five.
i gave you nothing and you took, and you took, and you took, and you took.
you plucked the petals off all my roses one by one.
two by three, three by five, Five, Seven, Eight, Ten,
Twelve, Fourteen, Eighteen, Twenty, Twenty Two, Twenty Eight, Thirty
You gave me a thorn-covered stem.
i accepted it anyway.
somehow content with the sharp needles of your roses
cutting into me over and over again
until i bled and splattered your roses a dark red
your favorite color.
I asked you to stop giving me roses,
But you shoved more into my hands, more into chest, more into my mouth
to suffocate my tortured cries.
throw your roses away
let me sink into the earth and finally let me grow into a field of wildflowers
like i was meant to
before you sunk your roots into me.
burn me with your superficial love,
i always knew you were nothing less than a forest fire.
