He hands her bouquets
She swats each away to see
Guns firing petals
She cannot recant
The burn of spells cast daily
Ring ‘round the roses
And we all fall down
Iron-hued blood that stained
Empty bellies rouge
It bled everywhere
Darkened slick of sick roses
She won’t let him cry
Flowers from his eyes
Or hanging paper dollies
Says that it’s okay
Says that it’s okay
She can’t spill bone-dry flowers
To drown in the Nile
She swats each bouquet
Why won’t she just let him care?
He’s swatted away
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
He hands her bouquets
She swats each away to see
Guns firing petals
She cannot recant
The burn of spells cast daily
Ring ‘round the roses
And we all fall down
Iron-hued blood that stained
Empty bellies rouge
It bled everywhere
Darkened slick of sick roses
She won’t let him cry
Flowers from his eyes
Or hanging paper dollies
Says that it’s okay
Says that it’s okay
She can’t spill bone-dry flowers
To drown in the Nile
She swats each bouquet
Why won’t she just let him care?
He’s swatted away
