Daisies

What atrocity beholds my subjects;

prancing amid meadows of scorching daisies

and roses; stung by the thorns sprouted

at their feet, and tended to by me

Why, of course, they all wallow in their beauty;

tortured, lashed by and by from the bladed vine,

but never have I met a spirit

deemed worthy of being mine

Golden brown hair hung from her scalp;

how foolish of me to think she was just another

flower amid this garden!; when her eyes

fueled with the colors of a lover

And to suffer from a distance;

oh! how I longed to caress her chin

and to be in place of her to face

the consequences of her false sins!

And oh!; how I longed to

present her my throne;

and hand her my iron scepter,

so she may rule this place as her own

Author's Note

Photo courtesy of Spartichi of Deviant Art.

Reviews

[Baby Ricochet]

First off I'm gonna like anything that the word Atrocity is in the first sentence of the first Stanza. Love's forlorn sting with just a hint of violence. Another Tai classic

[Tai Ryens]

Thanks, Baby R.