It was just a trickle not a flow
I wanted to see her rose grow
How hard would it be to see
Would her thorns cut me
The delicate perfume of a flower
Besotted more hour by hour

Should I pluck the petals one by one
Until her beauty is all but gone?
What is deep and cannot be seen
Is how nature can be so mean
A delicacy so fragile will die
No use getting agitated or to start to cry
The fly will always be trapped in some web
Life like the tide was on the ebb
Frustration gives birth to bastard sons
We better be ready and stick to our guns

It was still a trickle not a flow
Bleeding down her thigh
She should have been embarrassed like the others
It’s natures call that’s why
Why be ashamed at what cards have been dealt
Beauty entwined with hardship riches spiked with shame
How will you know how I really felt?
Between a sip of absinthe and the taste of sin
Everything changes nothing stays the same
The sun is not fixed and wobbles ever so slightly
We must relax and be part of deaths game
Instead of joining cults and worshipping the almighty

It was just a trickle not a flow
If there is a god how would you know
Did you get an invite or a blind date
Playing chess without ever achieving checkmate
The running river lurching towards the sea
The innocent bodies of trees and limbs amputated
Upon the raft of bark and knots lies a rose
Dead to the world and smelling stale to the nose
Casting no shadow and having no blame
Think like me and you will never be the same
How much beauty has died before our very eyes?
Maybe just a trickle hopefully never a flow.

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