Roses and Cigarettes

Escape.

A grumpy boy in a meadow of flowers
Looking at the sky
Counting the hours
Wants freedom but too shy
A dark cloud over him towers
Finally it was time to die
To think of whom or whom or cry
Or lay helpless with no powers
Eyes shut tight
Mouth wide open
Silent screams
He bites his lip
It tastes too sour
For blood on the tongue can imply
Of how this meadow will welt and dry
And hidden stars of that day
In courts of nature shall testify
For what's left of life will lie
In his arms will weep and pry
Words that were made for him to try
Win a heart with a wink of an eye
And clench the thirst for souls to devour.