RMC

Outside I’m ugly
inside is pain
from aging ugly
under the rain.

I feel guilty
for being born
I feel silly
for feeling torn.

I guess it’s not
the way it is
in the flesh rot
is the way it gets.

Rose of flower
the power my hand
holds by the hour
my heart’s stand.

Inside the fire
the hell is in my head.
I wish for the ire
to wish I was dead.

But hope holds
a rope and tropes
for meek for bold
sad starved soul.

We strive alive
to keep the sleep
of the meek strive
to get to the weak.

For I feel flame
of the tender heart tear
and I’m no longer same;
I wasn’t prepared.

The dead they hunger
in my head hurt
is my heart I partly under,
found love first.

For inside I’m nothing,
nothing like you.
We are a species nothing
the earth thought true.

Waters, mountains, fires
and the earth cracks.
The stars they stoke ire,
no hope for answers back.

Let love lift my body
oddly in a tomb
here in my room I’d be
a part of a heart’s tune.