Why are you cast away from lovers
red and thorns that prick the thumbs
of gentler times of long ago when
beggars wept in streets of plagues
and rats ate moldy bread for want
of souls lost in the streets of darkness.
The King and Queen ate meat and
spices from the orient with fruits
plucked from budding trees of passion
from the sun and soil so rich of gold
Whilst dying in the streets of black
rose death was a burden on the souls
of mortal man who for want of living
died among the sick and weak yet tried
in vain to save their souls at least for
generations left to weep at their feet
in catacombs so deep below.
Farewell my friends so I may pluck
these pedals of death cast upon my soul
and leave this god forsaken place for
hell to find a home to rest my weary
broken heart that flowered with
a seed of hope.
Yet eternal is not the place I want to
lay my past upon just take me as I
am without the lavish scent of roses
sent me as I squirm among the
blackened rose that wilted long ago.
I leave you now to walk among
the dying souls who stack like rubble
in the streets for burning from the
stench they leave in rags so poor
and plagued by vermin carrying
death and offer up a silent prayer
to children left to walk alone
in weeping silence.
© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved