Yesterday my sister visited me
and remarked on the dozen
blood red roses in a vase and said
how lucky I was to have someone to bring me flowers
I didn't dare tell her they were an apology, I didn't dare tell her they represented the blood I bleed,
I didn't dare tell her she could have them because if he came home and saw them missing...
He'd know someone came to visit
and the tones of the tune would be bass deep and in the end only I would weep to a song that would never end
and the roses would die inside the vase
while I quietly hid my face
Then the daisies would arrive
and once again my sister would visit
only to see fresh flowers in a vase
and sigh in heartfelt delight
but she'll never know, that the flowers
that continue to show up in the vase
represent my fear of the coming night.