A Disney princess fell from grace.
Or maybe it’s the truer tale.
Aurora Rose the sleeping queen
But this one never wants to sleep.
She’ll sneak outside and run about
And have the cops all chase her.
But that’s her choice which I respect
And maybe that will count a bit.
She made a promise not to cut.
So far she’s doing well for hours.
I think she’s scared of what’ll be.
Instead of cuts I’m pretty sure
She’s getting high some more. Much more.
If I could say I want her clean
I bet I would. But I’m scared now.
I’m trying not to lose a friend
Cause I don’t have enough to spare.
She loves the high, I don’t know if
She’s ever low and I don’t care.
The only meat she seems to like
Is long and hot, not in her mouth.
I hope she doesn’t lose control.
But that’s ironic. I’m the one
Who’d lose control but somehow she
Has found a way to love that part
Of me. I promised her a poem.
And now she has an ode to her.
Gratias tibi ago, Aurorae. Cogito te vertere meam animam.