(that rose of shadows
that rose of shallows)



The waves come
one-by-one
then all at once
Yet she endures
just the same
what a shame
ye winners of this mortal
game

what chance you took
when first you mistook

the risk she brooked

ahhh but you had her...
thrashing on that little line
squirming on yer little
hook

but oh, how you chose
to still roll 'em dice...
ye skillful mice
never thinking thrice
of all your
lice

and their awful
asking price

of the quite
unnecessary
sacrifice

No. 
You only thought of you...
trolls

hiding under that worthless
bridge
defending that barren
ridge

while tsunamis take their toll
while once again, she rolls
like the coming of
thunder
to pull you under

her truth
that ever-lasting youth
that crashes like waves
calling sinners
one-and-all
to their well-earned
graves

think of Macbeth... begging
for that quick and painless
death
with every
single
breath

so she throws caution to the wind
where all sins rescind
within every silhouette

dawning like
that new horizon
as only she can
like it was always
a well-penned-plan

So, as long as her breath
holds
she be the Master
of these here
molds

so long as her breath
holds

her story
will become the scaffold
by which other people climb

ye dumb and stupid mime

her song
will be sung

much to the
chagrin
of y'all most determined
to sin.


X
09/18/2023



*There is a special place in hell for silent witnesses.

© Raena Exe 2023

“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”

William Shakespeare

The hosts of heaven have come
the time of Roses
has begun

The tempest
finally won
spun
like fairy tales
and fictitious schemes
all those things
that got ya
locked
by all them 'seems'

A myriad of dreams
themes
you made so
very unclean

my fiddle-headed lark
my vocational Stark
my lonesome ember
long after dark

Lies have always been
Satan's mark

But you...
you always knew
which way the wind blew
even as you chose to eschew
what the Lord had given you

That hand
that bit of sand
given by a witch
so you could finally make your stand
to be authentically you

and look...
look what You
chose to do

Dumber than a box of rocks
or a bunch of cum-filled socks
or some silly little locks
full of greying hair

for this maiden fare

who chose time and time again
to play the clown
to do it all
upside down
pretending
his smile
weren't really
a frown

Twinkle, twinkle little star
look how infamous you've
grown so far

Those devil deeds sewn
into a cloak
of shame

Your precious
game
of fame

And how it forever tarnished
Your eternal name.



X
09/17/2023



*Some see one, some sew a few, some see them all
and know exactly what to do.