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The rose wept
bitter tears
                        when the thorn
pricked hard
the eager fingers
that plucked her
from the bush,
She imagined it was
her lover's.
                  Most upset
                  she kissed
                           oozing
                                    drops
                ­                        of blood
                                                  dry,
and wept,
not realizing
the thorn's anger
was directed
to the  irresponsible
aggressor, who has
only selfish motives.
The thorn meant to protect her,
while trying in vein to hold back his
tears that, for others looked like
                                                   dew
                                                      drops
    ­                                                    gleaming
    ­                                                             in pain.


Once snatched from the lap of the bush
she  hardly would last a day or two,
then  would be left to rot
                                         turn to dust
                                                 and vanish
                                                     in a rowdy wind.
~~~~
Thunder lit the lake
In the blackness of the Night
To see the Earth glow

~~~~~
Last night I slept next to her,
surely it was a blur,
I didn't even care what she meant,
she kept me safe without consent...
Well that was the night I slept next to Marilyn...

She was smiling all night long,
she wasn't happy but why was she smiling all along?
Coping with that inner sadness,
just like me with all of that madness...
Happiness is subjective, you can look happy and be rotting inside.

Drowning in her tears by morning,
I knew when she was gone... I'd be mourning.
Cause when she  leaves,
she robs you like a million thieves.
**Empty & alone, I realize it's only her visage keeping me company.
Her soft leaves tremble as
the clouds clash and collide
above, revealing their deafening
roar.

Tremors ripple through her,
beginning at her roots; the
poignant sky tears straight through
her rind.

Vicious tears fall from melancholy stars,
and she quakes under the bellow
of the outraged clouds; she is
alone.

Turbulent,
    irate,
        ferocious,
but she will remain.
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