How soft the calling of the rose in bloom;
Its rage not diminished by its small size,
For it has seen a man deliver doom
With not a drop, remorseful, from his eyes.
The rose who screams has seen its brothers fall,
Cleft and tied as trinkets for a hot date.
It cries without lungs, giving it its all,
Petals in bloom, show’ring it foes with hate.
Then red and white and pink and gold align
Together in the vengeful rose’s song,
A harmony unheard by humankind
Until they are a dozen voices strong.
Then weep! The florist ends their final day.
Aren’t you relieved I brought you no bouquet?
The Daily Travesty 