truth

Roses must hate spring
Couples ever snipping buds
Killing for their love.

Glancing behind me
I thought I saw a dragon
‘Twas naught but a cloud.

(and now for something completely different)

Red drops in white sink
Blood gushing like a faucet
Death can be pretty.

We type back and forth
The wires bring us closer
But you’re right next door.

Though we make it numb
Without pain we could not know
How much joy we feel.

Without a kicker
The soccer ball sits so still
Murdered by neglect.