How you cut that rose bud in the narrowest parts of the garden, how you knew the sun hadn’t touched it, how you knew its photosynthesis inexperience

You hacked it right off the stem so it wouldn’t have a chance to take a last breath.

A breath of deadly relief from your touch

There it lay in your hand completely dead yet a pulsing red vibration of life echoed out of it

You watched as the life that was to flicker away.

Yet you place it under a lamp and watch as every false Ray of light burns its innocent red flesh.

How You watch it grow addicted to a false life source.

Your narcissist sickness with your own self mentality killing off any imperfections with no thought of its potential.

You feast on the death of all that’s innocently beautiful.

Your need for control it devours your soul all that’s left is Mr Charming unsympathetic and full of shit.

Now you want a princess… oh, who is worthy enough for the empty shell called Charming?


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