One day at a town meeting, the Queen passed around
Seeds that were sown straight from the wet ground.
And each person received a tiny sapling or pea,
Each person had a seed; each person but me.
Over time the seeds developed petals so white,
If they shone in your eyes you could lose your sight.
Others were pink as the rosy lips of young girls,
With a velvet red inside perfectly round as a pearl.
Each person had a flower; each person was free.
Each person was smiling; each person but me.
The Queen looked with pity at my trembling wrist,
She surveyed my mad eyes and mouth tight as a fist.
She gave me a flower; but it was not like the rest.
This flower was black and boiling, possessed.
The petals frail as the heart of an orphan child,
Its stem poking into my chest, its thorns long and wild.
This flower, this burden, it made me depressed,
It stuck to my neck and caused me such unrest
That I spent nights filling jars with my tears.
Hoping that the flower would just disappear.
The others had bouquets of lilacs for weddings,
While I had a black rose, its leaves slowly shedding.
Dear Queen, please take this hell back, I want it no more.
I’m fine without anything, I liked how things were before.
Oh Queen, make me sober, make me glad, do you not see?
Don’t you understand, don’t you know, that this is not the
real me?
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