Author Topic: Wilted Rose  (Read 925 times)

Offline Eloquent.Writer

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Wilted Rose
« on: August 09, 2006, 11:05:36 AM »
You stand there and you laugh at me
Iím really quite confused
I donít know what I did to you
To get so damn abused

I wish that you would leave me alone
It hurts when you call me names
I donít know what to think of it
My friends they make false claims

I donít think I can put up with it
I truly donít want to go on
I think about it all the time
Youíd be better off if I was gone

I took a rope from my daddyís shed
Just this afternoon
I tied it to the ceiling
And stared up at the moon

My daddy found me far too late
For I was already gone
I tied a note to my dress
That said pray for me at dawn

I know no one will miss me
Although I hope they feel some guilt
For at twelve I committed suicide
My rose will forever wilt
I have a passion to create a subject of the mind's desire; an object of affection for the innermost workings of the educated imagination.