Thursday, February 19, 2009


Quietly, I pick up the rose
that you place before me,
proud and nervous
Dying for the dead?
I look up at you and smile
Because I hate it
and you expect me to love
Should I?

I bow and listen
Jagged edges caught in rusted nails
Hiding in calm soothing wood
Death does make one feel the need for vengeance
So I nod in sympathy
for you can not hear them
And I bleed proudly

You wash away the pain
and look at me with pride
Yet I can see the disappointment
I could not even cry
So I hurry, pretend to feel the pain
and look on in guarded sadness as you hammer away
You can't kill the dead
Can you?

I ask for the moon
hoping you will laugh and mock me
so that I can frown
But with a pleased smile and a ribbon
you hand it to me
and I kiss you
because that's what's to be done

You love me more as I grow paler
Saving me from the sun?
or because it suits the dress you bought me
It's calm, pretty and white
Light, hopeful and pure
even though you'll never say it
And so I smile
Because you pay me to...

1 comment:

  1. Once you get over the whole emo feel, this is actually good