I be the rose thief and bloom pirate.
Heed the prize in me bleeding fist.
I be the wild rose cherisher;
Capturing blood-buds, thorns and
All with just me bare hands.
No blade against the sharp green claws.
Cool molten folds comfort me flesh.
Petals heal the torn cups of me palms.
I brew wine from rose hips and sing of
Red raids. Cuts gush smiling from me
Fingers. I laugh and suck me blood
For sustenance. I be the rose ravager,
Feeding the thorns and swinging from trellises.
Dirt on the doormat. A bushel of roses
Torn out by the roots. Me blood on the
Basket-wood, on rusted wire handles.
I leave it at your door now and knock.
O, terror so becomes a rose.
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