Single Status Update
What if poison fucking ivy
Lived aside the fucking rose
What if piss and shit and envy
Were companion of your hope
What if life and death were lovers
What if saints and hookers fell
What if Jesus loved a prostitute
And heaven followed hell
What if wanton self destruction
Walked astride in hand with love
What if pestilence and vultures
Were the bedmates of the dove?
If you could make a flower grow
In stagnant stinking filth
Would you let the precious flower go
With someone fucking else?
And if you could paint a masterpiece
While deep inside you drown
Would you let somebody save it?
Would you drag it fucking down?
Would you suffocate your flower
Would you smother it with love
Would you break it’s stem with all your hate
Or would you let it go?
Would you grant your love a future
Or condemn it here to die
And then wither up within your book
Your flower, pressed and dry
Your perfect little flower.
This perfect work of art.
I choose the right over the wrong
And die of broken heart.