Beauty in hell

by Brookie   Oct 5, 2015


It's funny how fragile flowers are
Yet we still play rough with them,
Their paper thin petals scream every time
God wraps his hands around them.

I think that's why my skin is scarred
And my mind is starting to go,
Because when I was wilting
People never gave me water;

They just trimmed off my thorns
Leaving me defenseless to the
Outside elements of life
Whilst I sat silently, unable to be heard.

My skin might have crimson red marks
But I promise they were not self inflicted,
These are the scars of every demon
Of every nightmare that flowers everywhere

Have endured.

Maybe it was just a scratch
Caused by children's
'she loves me, she loves me nots'
In hope romance somehow finds their lips,

Either way when my last petal is pulled
And my skin is brown and dry
Begging for the water I've been
Neglected

At least I know there will be one flower
Trying to bring beauty to Hell.

    report violation
2


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 8 years ago

    by hiraeth

    Larry pretty much pegged everything I wanted to say, so I will just mention that fact that this piece made me instantly think of the scene in the dark knight rises, where batman's imprisoned and learns about a child being born in prison (the prison was underground and pretty much every one there was left to die), and the child is the embodiment of symbolism. I think the direct quote would word it much better than I ever can "Innocence cannot flower underground. It was to be stamped out.". But innocence did flower underground because it was protected, and managed to thrive in the place where it was least expected to. There are many species of flowers that are extremely robust, i.e thriving in extreme heat, in places with little water, and little sunlight. (:

  • 9 years ago

    by Larry Chamberlin

    My sub-judge comment:
    Self-awareness is but the first step. The knowledge that you are a pawn in someone's hand does not set you free regardless of your hopes. The child still plays loves-me, loves-me-not. Yet, there it is:
    "At least I know there will be one flower / Trying to bring beauty to Hell."
    The eternal acceptance of irreversible fate and resolution to ameliorate the situation in however small a way possible. Truest humanity.

More Poems By Brookie