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I am the poor boy
My heritage made of mud
There sits the rich girl
With jewels in her blood

I am a choked winter flower
Cast out in cold I close
People watch her in the spring
Blooming into a blood red rose

Her cartilage tainted nails
Every scissor sharp p***k
Can tear up my heart
And hold it in her grip

She can squeeze me dry
Until there is nothing left to flow...
Feed her thick lush petals
Then slowly let me go

Kingdoms hang on her every word
And lie in fear at her feet
I drown fearless into her smile
For her venom is so sweet

She may sit on her throne
Dismount, she may never
For her I am willing,
Willing to wait forever

Yet I am just a poor boy
I haven’t got a cent
Enchanted by her beauty
Addicted to her scent

With every scortching touch
My love for her still grows
And she will always be my queen
My blood red summer rose

She chisels at my soul
Sculpts the function of my heart
I am just the rubble
Of her perfect work of art

And with every hard sharp blow
That sends me scattering on the floor
I cannot help but feel
That I love her even more

She renders me lifeless
With spiteful curses and stones
Unable to let her go,
Unable to move my bones

She sits upon her marble chair
And I find still she strikes me dumb
But I am just the poor boy
Unaware of what she’s become