i was handed a bouquet of roses
already wilted and black
but i painted them red
and lied to the world
saying they were beautiful

the rot followed me wherever i went
no one else could recognize the scent
so i sprayed perfume
and told myself they'd be alive tomorrow

soon the paint chipped away
and the perfume wore off
and i was left with these
terrible, horrible, wilted
roses

i brought them to my mother
hoping she had a remedy
but instead she pulled a bouquet of roses
from behind her back
and they were as terrible
as horrible
and as wilted as mine
but she told me they were beautiful
because as they wilted
she stayed alive