The flower you gave me
Lays upon the shelf
Two days after its release.
You say your precious words,
So plain and so beautiful,
Yet they mean so little, they drive me insane.
This poor flower, left to breathe the air,
No water to help it survive,
It suffers the fate that I could only wish upon you.
The suffocation you place upon me is felt upon this flower,
It suffered because I had to prove my point,
To your flaccid brain.
You only glance at it and don’t see the flower’s suffering,
You view your life so pretty and so perfect,
Calling me sweetie, sweetheart and precious,
But I cannot stand that “Dear”,
Its too syrupy sweet.
Just leave me at peace,
No more “Pretty”, or “Precious” or “Darling,” please,
I cannot bare it any longer, I say,
It is not dear to me any longer.
The majestic glory of your pedestal
Has all but turned to a sharp, pointy pole,
Stabbing me in areas,
Which I loath to describe.
Please let me be and take your flower to its burial ground,
Release my ‘chastity belt’ and relieve me of my pedestal,
You ignorant tyrant!