deepundergroundpoetry.com

Rose Red

"Rose, rose, rose red.
Will I ever see thee wed?
I will marry at thy will sire, at thy will. . ."

Commited-- done that.
Commitment-- Never tried.
The ring on my hand, the knot's been tied.
Good-bye dreams and life.
For now I am not me, but someone's wife.
But can my heart stay here, and not wander away?
Can I hold my ground, will I stay?
Do I trust him-- Maybe.
Do I want to-- No
Should I-- Yes
A child born out of wedlock has given me this fate.
To say that commitment and love,
little company they keep together at any rate.
Love is like a rose,
beautiful and repose.
But willing to draw blood,
in it's defense.
Let my rose grow beautifully and let me stay.
Don't let the petals fall and take my heart away.
I don't know what this is.
This emotion I feel.
Is it love?
That's foolish, that emotion isn't real.
But now I am married.
And I am his wife.
I must walk a few steps behind him, for the rest of my life.
This is a matter of commitment, not of the heart.
For we are stuck together, until death do us part.