The Little Prince Poem by Singer Joy

I am like a glass bottle-
Full to the brim with
Nothingness.
I am a brittle model
Of a small prince
Cursed by coincidence
In excess.

Upon witnessing her own bloom,
Sweet rose flushed with pride.
But during gentle night,
The Eclipse held their eyes.

All except mine, of course-
Downward my focuses
Despaired,
Ever fearing the worst.
If I had only seen
Why this darkest sky had been
Prepared...

In short, Rose felt betrayed.

With up-stretched arms,
They cleverly
Denied her.
Her wily charms,
Pale-night worn,
And through many thorns
Belied her.

The one who loved her, through trampled,
Saw not her darling flush,
Or scarlet-velvet crush,
But knew the thorn's bitter blood-lust.