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| Rose blooming in December |
When steam cleans your brain stem,
When your eyes leak and your ears
bleed,
Your fingernails pried off, your
kneecaps shattered,
Your skin sliced with scars and blood,
You wait, unanswered.
Blinds block your view of the street
below,
Clogged with cars and pedestrians,
Their upturned umbrellas blooming into
the black sky.
Your desire for sunshine wiped away,
You smile at your own demise.
You yearn to be a martyr,
To be the only one willing to die.
You think dreams are something you can
choose,
But the worst nightmares come for those
Who least expect them.
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