You’re preaching your vanity
To my innocent insanity
But I will hide within
While you strut and jut your chin.
Feeble destruction, I confess
Sitting in my pretty dress.
Ribbons of gold and silk of blue
I wouldn’t lift my skirt for you.
Roses white and gentle pink
Stained with red when the thorns *****
To behead a rose - 'tis not wise
Our stinging beauty terrifies.
Among the peonies, footsteps soft
Pretty little ladies’ faces don’t rot.
Corsets choking our manic laughter
Underneath her frills it’s a disaster.
My innocent insanity
Comes with a smile.
Take my paper hand good sir
Stay with me for a while.
You’ll enter blind
And leave a new man
Able to hear
That that is not there
And barely able to stand.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
You’re preaching your vanity
To my innocent insanity
But I will hide within
While you strut and jut your chin.
Feeble destruction, I confess
Sitting in my pretty dress.
Ribbons of gold and silk of blue
I wouldn’t lift my skirt for you.
Roses white and gentle pink
Stained with red when the thorns *****
To behead a rose - 'tis not wise
Our stinging beauty terrifies.
Among the peonies, footsteps soft
Pretty little ladies’ faces don’t rot.
Corsets choking our manic laughter
Underneath her frills it’s a disaster.
My innocent insanity
Comes with a smile.
Take my paper hand good sir
Stay with me for a while.
You’ll enter blind
And leave a new man
Able to hear
That that is not there
And barely able to stand.
Request permission to use this poem