Late in the night, I hurt.
Dawn turns to dusk
There are stars in the glass
Of my windowpanes
And a big, beautiful moon.
The moonlight burns
I am afraid, desolate
That this isn’t a dream
I am fearful, inconsolable
That you’ll never hear the pain in my screams.
That you’ll never know what it means
To scar and burn
To rape and pillage
To be ravaged.
To be devastated.
Early in the morning, I gasp.
For air.
I am choking on oxygen
It is death to live
It is death to live
It is death to live
I forget, I forgot, I will not remember:
It is death... to die.
I loved a thorny cactus
I mistook it for a rose bush
(Not a beautiful lotus pond sans thorns-
but that is my inexperience)
And pricked my finger.
Blood, blood, bleeding love.
Even my pain waters its arid chambers.
I want it to have no caretaker but me
Because I cannot stand my love to be wasted
I forget, I forgot, I will not remember:
My graceful fortune,
Of love in endless supply
You cannot waste what never finishes
Like sunlight;
Like fragrance.
You cannot waste life.
Sometimes, we just forget:
We all make mistakes
We all make mistakes
We all make mistakes
Every last one of us.
Beautiful souls will always
Rest pretty, sleep sweet:
In our memories and dreams
Is a beautiful girl.
