Dirt
         You've turned into dirt.

Twisted away in fragile positions,
You've turned into dirt.
          How does it feel to be this vulnerable?

To be plucked from your home, and bought with dirt to be sold off to the husband who forgot his wife's birthday?

To be called 'beautiful', only to be left rotting away?
To sit beside a bed of 'beautiful' red roses, who think they'll be safe forever. To know they'll turn into you, you who has moulded into dirt.

These eyes fall on you now,
   they feel guilt,
      they feel remorse,
(they feel happy?)
          they feel like a murderer.

They run to drench you with water.

                           The poor white tulips,
                                              and the poor pink roses
                     will you be fixed from this phase of dirt?

A garden filled with thorns,
Yet a rose, a special rose that has grown.
It stands above the rest,
Even in this wonderful flower bed.
She is the only rose that has no thorns,
A beautiful stem, clear, easily sown
Only beauty it has shown.

She was picked,
No bleeding, no *****
Carried upon with a gentle hand.
She was brought onto some distant lands,
Upon the paved path, oh what have they seen;
The sun is setting warmth and danger we feel.

The moon, not yet to arrive
Along the bushes we hide.
While seeking for the light,
The atmosphere cared so bright
A great sightseeing for the fireflies.

As we stare upon the vast sky,
They dance with colors as they fly
Smile upon your face will be my warmth of unforgettable
On how this cold night transverse beyond something loveable.

We have slept on the soft touch of the grass,
"Oh! few petals on this lass",
The sun shone brighter
As we get up, the journey wasn't over.

Across the lands,
Beyond this pass
We have encountered some wild packs.

They seem wild and tensed,
A few caress you have lent

They weren't ferocious nor tenacious
They looked so adorable and precious.
A wolf became a friend,
Where your heart began to mend

He followed your tracks,
He lead off to a good path.
He cared for you on how much you cared for him,
Never his eyes became too dim

We may not reach the end,
We have walked as we can.
Made possibilities and room for chances,
Chances that will give you a good ending.
But as soon we have stepped there is a better leading
The journey along the way, ain't it
Easy and susceptible?
We may find answers what is desirable.

You have been a rose, a beautiful rose I have ever met.
Your every petal is a special one to be kept.

Idle days thinking...

All the time we
Make mistakes.

Time heals us.
Is it true?
Roses have thorns.
Evidentially the same applies to time.
Doesn't it?

There is a woman,
With heaven underneath her feet.
When I take a glimpse of her eyes,
I forget about the stars.
For the twinkle of her eyes is better than that of stars.
When I gaze at her lips,
I forget about the crimson of roses.
For her lips are far rosier.
When I hear her laugh,
I forget about the nightingale.
For her voice is far too merry.
But do you know who this woman is?
She is Mama the Marvellous.

There is a woman,
With heaven underneath her feet.
When I take a glimpse of her eyes,
I forget about the stars.
For the twinkle of her eyes is better than that of stars.
When I gaze at her lips,
I forget about the crimson of roses,
For her lips are far rosier .
When I hear her laugh,
I forget about the nightingale.
For her voice is far too merry.
But do you know who this woman is?
She is Mama the Marvelous.

Roses red
Night sky black
Love the feeling of fingernails
Etching lines up and down my back
Outside air is vicious and cold
It's warm beneath my bedsheets
Come defrost against my skin
As senses eagerly meet
Time not exists in this place
Surroundings slowly fade out
The stress weighing down my body
A burden I don't think about
Inhaling electricity
Exhaling loneliness
Grateful for present moment
Escape from daily mess
Relief may be temporary
I will appreciate it just the same
Honestly any emotion
Better than the usual pain