(Burp!)I wake up, my lips still wet
with yesterdays feast of rose honey.
Ah! Lovely morn!
My wings still wet
With dew.
But wait!
What are these black spots?
My wings! they hurt,
The black spots burning through me.
Oh! where are those roses
Whose honey I feasted?
I could here
Crackers and celebration.
Now my roses are a heap of ashes.
My eyes, my whole being hurts.
But how?
One of those spires
Hit me in sleep.
Deep in slumber
I couldn’t feel the embers.
I wake up now
To die, to reduce my pain
Brought about by human disdain.
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