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story of a red-rose tyrant



mother, where art thou?
where did I go wrong?
tell me mother, what should I do
to make this pain go away?


please fly your hand towards
the smiling edge of my face
on the slightest bit of tart
please cover my ears, eyes
on what should have been and should not
perhaps that way, I would not be in wrath
and within your grasp shall I become
inside you again, amidst the sanctuary
where you let me suffer grew and prosper
petite servings and books
scheduled down to seconds
living on bits and pieces, I live on another day
thinking it was all for the best,
after all, that’s what you said
as you sculpted me to your heart’s desire

mother, oh mother
tell me, where did I go wrong?
why does the world turned against me?
I was always enduring, patient, obedient
following all your rules and whims
so tell me, dear mother
why wouldn’t they do the same?
why do they raise their voice, their thoughts, their hands
against me?

mother, mother, mother
please do enlighten
am I in the wrong?
was I at fault for following your every orders?
for abiding, for not rebelling, for staying dutiful?
or is it perhaps
were you the ones in the wrong?
