The rose has thorns because it cares not to be touched. Its color is a warning for animals to stay away. Its scent is a scream and not a delight for us to own. It exists in ****** stillness bending only for the sun. The scientist knows this having heard its sub audible howl with delicate machines that probe its roots. The poet plucks the bloom unaware of the pain that created that beauty, the aroma that shouts its death to its vegetable kind.
I'm not sure why but I tried to die And now I feel all dead inside Do you know why I tried to die Or why I feel so dead inside I always feel all dead inside Ever since the day I tried Tried to take away my life And tried it while holding a knife I feel so lost looking in this knife And I don't know why but now I cry I cry all the lovely lullabies The lullabies Oh lovely cries They sing me to sleep at night Every night I lay with fright that this may be my last goodnight The tears fall out and sing about the monsters of our fearful house This fearful house they sing about leaves hidden sights to see But once you see you can't turn back or you must wear a shameful hat The shameful hate oh sinful hat Why must you not look back Wearing this hat oh sinful hat why must I sin for you For sinning brings more fright of this being my last night I think I know why I must feel so dead inside for I can not express making me a sinful mess But a sinful mess must not address any real desire for if I do well then it's you who must bear this frightful night If I no longer bear this dreaded frightful night it will leave me in a quake that I might not survive A vegetable A vegetable is what I will become p And that my friend is worse than feeling oh so numb I don't know how I started to feel all of these things But now I know the reason why I must stay all dead inside
They’ve taken my arms, Taken my legs, Taken my eyes, Taken my head, Taken my mind. Now I am just a vegetable. An armless, Legless, Eyeless, Headless, Mindless freak! Left to rot and decay, While I can still feel it all slipping away.
Mothers garden adorned with fleshy fruit Thus I plucked and ****** at the jocund juice Branches speckled with luscious loot A taste so sweet, I propose a tantalizing truce Immortalize me with nourishing nectar Keep my belly from famished fallicies No longer a fleshy comestible collector For godly ambrosia has mended moralities