Arcane

I want to break the silence, 

Without bringing forth the noise 

From the sky 

The colors come out just to reflect  their inferiority complex 

Looking for the attention secretly,

From all the sewer mains.

We are all in the gutter

But the rose knows

And has the skill to outsmart 

All those unconcerned fools. 

Deep in the arcane yard— the one her father prepared for her -

She’s reminded how to bend without cracking or yielding to complacency.

Effortlessly beautiful

But hard

The venom

Rests between the warrior knife

and the solitery sting.

You could pick her,

but beware 

The moment of regret lies neigh

Your wormmongering heart

Is entirely seen-through

Especially when your tongue spews honey of blatant lies.

Some who intoxicatingly picked the rose,

thought she was safe to hold.

Too late they learned, voluptuous  thoughts lead too many a heart to decay.