Flowers of Tragedy

I am weak.
I have let the darkness consume my soul.

Looking at a rose, the most beautiful rose in the world,
it hid the thorns until I tried to grasp it.

I saw the most beautiful lily in the hair of a young maiden.
Out of fear and respect, I chose not to steal it,
with bitterness, I watch another maiden steal the lily while the first maiden sleeps!

The only flowers left are daisys.

Enough of flowers!  I lust for blood!  I lust for power!

I am forced to drink the bitterness of others,
yet they refuse to drink of my recipe.
So I choose to break my glass,
yet tea is spilled upon me!
Hot, bitter tea.

I long for the time when the blackwind howls.
For then I shall know,
My soul or their soul?

I need someone, pure of heart , of nobleness
one to empty my heart of dark and fill it with light.
What can fill my heart in that manner?
Do I have the strength to let God enter my heart?
It seems not.

So the darkness in which I hide will continue to swallow me.
I will be chewed upon until I am able to carry the darkness
to others of this dreary and gloomy world.
Or shall I conquer a secret desire?

Is life really worth living?
Emotions cause me anger, fills me with darkness.
Thinking only causes me pain which adds to the darkness,
the darkness which stands in place of my soul.

Will I see my smallest desire stomped on?
Or will the rose lose all but one thorn, enough to share my love,
enough to sting my soul?
Will the lily fall from the pouch, only to wither at my touch?
Or will I become wiser, and concoct my poison from the daisys?


by Marcus