The Diseased Rose Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
The Diseased Rose
So long, goodbye.
Kiss as you have never did before.
Because you never you know if it'll be your last.
Cherished, each and everyday.
Things can change.
I can change.
Mountains rearranged.
Now not so steep but a slow incline.
Now not so rocky, but a mellow woods that goes on for miles.
Seeing in a different light.
When wearing someone else's shoes be prepared for they might be too tight.
Yes they don't always fit right.
Words to live bye.
My wings have been clipped more then once.
My toes crunched and broken.
Running down my heart with razor blades.
A paper cut that bleeds so profusely.
Wanting so desperately to just make it stop.
A senseless thumping.
Why do I myself through it.
Maybe I'm addicted to the pain.
Or just maybe I'm unlovable.
An antisocial clandestine freak.
Wearing dirty old jeans and yellow shirts.
Don't mind them, there for work.
I don't own anything that pretty anymore.
Nothing with a sparkling a front.
A brand new kind anguish.
Now I'm not even good enough.
Not that I thought I was before.
But still I'm tired of my words dropping to floor.
Is anyone even listening.
Remembering, reminiscing.
What if I told you that was me.
Would you even a believe.
Am a I shadow or giant.
Lining up your former self.
Making a comparison.
A little more eccentric, and didactic.,
A smaller ego, better self restraint.
Yet when I need to speak up for myself I'm not as shy I was.
No I'm not that high school boy.
The one you'd avoid everyday.
The one you'd make fun of.
The one who would get fights on a daily basis.
Still a geek I guess.
But never did anything with all the smarts.
I like working outside breathing fresh air.
I'd rather do the manual labor.
Making it all by my self.
Not a single person I really can call a close friend.
I have a sickness.
Walking away from it all.
Not giving anyone a chance.
To hurt me so personally.
Inflicting my own pain.
Defiled in so many ways.
Counting the days.
Does it even matter.
The month of something.
But it is just another nothing to me.
I think I have destroyed myself.
All because of one stupid woman.
One I should have gave up on years ago.
Oh this sound so heartfelt...to me it was a very good, great job Ace...and no matter if the flower is diseased rose, it still rose and still it lovable...at same tree could be will be new bud waiting for bloom...no matter how bad the rose it, the smell not effected...but now you must consider that one diseased rose not rot your root, but only the rose will broken...and you, you will flowering new when time is ready and when weather is helping_Soul
I don't write 'Proper Poetry', I write till it satisfies me. I use as many words I feel I need to do it. For me it is an emotional release and practice at writing. You can keep the haiku, because I have more to say then just that when I write. Sometimes we are trying to tell a story, and even the shortest ones are multiple paragraphs long. We are given a huge language, and if all we do is write 4 line poems, it is a waste of the language.
beautiful but some long.no matter good job. in my opinion poetry should b as short as possible. poem of 4 lines can b elaborted to 400 pages.thnx for sharing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 4:17:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The worse plague in the world is the unrequited feelings of love, To me its toxic and I avoid it as a chicken avoids a knife. That being said this is a lovely work, filled with an amazing syntax and metaphors, extremely personal. Id say there's other fish in the sea but when you find a prized one its hard to see another