You're planting roses 'round the castle, saying they will keep me safe. But can't you see? The castle is a ruin, and your roses – are vile and bulbous like a wretched heart. They spill like smoke and vanish soon, for you don't nurture them.
So throw away the scissors and your mad ideas. There is no need for roses.
I'll plant a ring of cornflowers. They are like you – so small and lively and so sad. The blue that calms me and that is a favourite. And round the corn – a wall of cacti. Harsh, coarse, dangerous. Like me. The green fortress shall be your iron knight.
But don't forget that plants are weak – be they a flower or a tree. And those rough monsters with knives for fingers? They can bloom.
YOU ARE READING
To you, I sing across the moon
PoetryOne day I sat down and spun a story to the stars above. Hoping they can keep a secret. But the moon, that traitor, turned around and told you everything I said. About you. And about this world. All my little idle thoughts grew roots and flesh. No...
