Cynical
April 24th, 2011, 04:28 PM
One of my first poems, nothing special but i liked it.
He stands there…alone.
Watching the Rose pedals fly bye.
He sees something that catches his eye.
A white pedal flying bye amongst the red fields.
He wonders; ‘what is that doing here?’
He searches the pasture then something catches his eye.
A white rose lying amongst its red brethren.
As he picks the rose with no care in the world, the rose digs into his flesh because he was neither careful nor afraid of physical pain.
He was not afraid because the pain of the thorns distracted him from the pain of heart break a pain much worse.
He sees the blood dripping from his hand upon the rose.
Then the rose turns red like all its neighbors.
But under the tainted coding it’s still that unique white rose different from the rest.
He understands he also is different because of this he understands…
He’s not alone.
He stands there…alone.
Watching the Rose pedals fly bye.
He sees something that catches his eye.
A white pedal flying bye amongst the red fields.
He wonders; ‘what is that doing here?’
He searches the pasture then something catches his eye.
A white rose lying amongst its red brethren.
As he picks the rose with no care in the world, the rose digs into his flesh because he was neither careful nor afraid of physical pain.
He was not afraid because the pain of the thorns distracted him from the pain of heart break a pain much worse.
He sees the blood dripping from his hand upon the rose.
Then the rose turns red like all its neighbors.
But under the tainted coding it’s still that unique white rose different from the rest.
He understands he also is different because of this he understands…
He’s not alone.