today I wear my rose scented perfume
which I have spent too much money on
I wonder if the bees will come onto me
thinking I am a blooming pink,
perhaps a blood-red
rose.
I am a perfect illusion.
you do not know me
and you do not hear from me, you do not see me
you can not, touch me.
there only is the thought you have of me.
because I am what the devil granted this life
I am pure angry and fury
filled with beauty and grace
praying that I will visit you in your dreams
after the sun got too tired
and Papa took over the sky
so that you won't forget
that foolish
thought
of me
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