White Cherry

White cherry in the spring,
White sheets and white hands,
Knuckles deep in the sand,
Walls stained in red,
And a brain lacking oxygen.
A store selling parasites and satellites,
A room full of white ties,
And I'm a white cherry in the spring

No juice, no tears,
Nothing meaty to eat
Knuckles deep in the field,
I crawl and never bat an eye
I fly high in the sky,
With the root of evil by my side
Oh, I'm kind, I'm shy,
And I try every time
To satisfy the faceless child

Reviews

[K. Louis]

This poem has a surreal quality to it. The imagery is dreamlike, but there's also a sense of darkness and discomfort underlying it. The contrast between the white cherry and the "root of evil" is surprising.

[Lana]

Thank you for ur comments!