The Emptiness That Feeds Me

A blithe and dumb ballerina

Is not who I am;

The roses rule my spoken word

I am the cup of coffee that bleeds,

And where is the poverty

That bleeds?

The eternal outcome

Are soft and pleasant sheets

Wrapped around my body,

You love it when I am embraced

By skies unlimited...

Someone's soft touch intrigues me

I am the willow tree

I committed suicide today

But not really,

For I thought about it

Over and over again

But the soft bird saved me

Yet the roses are a blur

And I will still get my money, regardless

And I will still get my books

That are owed to me,

For I worked hard for these books

And I worked hard for my money,

Do I still want to die?

No.

For my emptiness feeds me promises

That are going to be kept this time,

And I apologize for my ugliness

For my ugliness is pretty.

And please don't drop my soul

For my soul is pretty--