The day of my death has come upon me, your carnal wrath disfigures my beauty as you lust for my pain. She loves me, she loves me not. Being torn piece by piece, bit by bit––my head was getting lighter. How greatly I envy the Tulip––her gorgeous form and her rich colors.
No one picks apart a Tulip for her stem or rapes her of her glorious petals. How the Daffodil loves the Dandelion and the Lily loves the reeds – a love that grows, a love that feeds. Oh, I hate how the others dare share their seeds, free from the hellish bush, free as free can be. The richer the rosebud, the thicker the thorns. No love to be had, only soft flesh to rend. How I wish the red that coated my petals was your blood. Warm and consuming like the feeling of love. As you tear me, I tear you. What a beautiful exchange. As my body is worked down to merely a stem, your blood begins to pour. Oh to be a rose with cruel intentions––that will never change.
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Art Credit: Pinterest
