Thorn Queen

The space is a blur of 
dark red, brown, and green

overgrown masses of vines 

sharp blades of grass and weeds

rose gardens filled with thorns 

and I'm the bitter roses' thorn queen,

trails of ink endlessly flow from my eyes 

I ran out of blood to shed or tears to cry

clutch the hand of the stone statue 

of my lover forever frozen in time,

flowers may appear as if wilting and dead

no worries they're just bowing their 

blessed little heads,

And here sits the conquered

a person who didn't want

to be conquered but wasn't 

ever strong enough to fight,

so she gave up the light and

took the darkness as a

source of pain and solitude

and a way out of others' misery.

Reviews

[Dust That Drifts Throug..]

A detailed and slightly emotional poem about giving up the good in life and letting the bad in life take over.