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Hurting Something Pretty
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Hurting Something Pretty Its time of year. Very sad indeed. For 5 weeks I’ve cared for them like a pampers his first pet -- rodent or insect, does not matter how insignificant. Autumn is in the air. No more lovely, colorful, fragile blossoms to crush. No more pretty petals to tear. Lonely days; melancholy nights. No more life. The flowers snake from the cold ground. Something once beautiful: Disguised by the unmerciful forces of nature. Its petals red as blood- Smeared across each vein. Its leaves are frail and dying. The night sky, a dark background, Hiding the creatures lurk, Suspiciously within the trees. Its image: Scratched, as if human kind had tried to erase it from memory. But the image still lives, Still breathes, Still thrives, Chilling me and my thoughts. I’m much more sociable in the fall. Alas, I have no choice. Unlike a and his pet, I need to hurt something pretty. This is where she comes in. Such a needy and trusting little seedling. When she's abandoned her moral center and teachings, she’ll start to sprout. When she's cast aside her facade of propriety and lady-like demeanor, she’ll take root to allow nutrients to come in. When I have so corrupted this fragile thing and brought out a writhing, mewling, bucking, wanton for my enjoyment and pleasure, her leaves will have begun to flaunt. Soon I will see a beautiful thing from the ground Growing up making no sound I see one thing makes me smile so big The bright color brings the happiness in anything Sweet, Sweet Petals So gentle and soft it makes me smile. Enticing from within this feral lioness...growling and scratching and biting...taking everything I dish out to her.....at moment she is never more beautiful to me. |
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