A TATTERED ROSE IN THE VORTEX OF THE BASTARDS

A tattered rose in the vortex of the barstards

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Darkness strips me totally naked,
I, a victim, longs to taste the azure sky.
My summer butterflies in hibernation,
Dare not to unfold their orange wings,
My winter snow has ceased falling long ago---
I, a gloomy Milky way, in endless rain.

My amber moon has waned,
Leaving the silky veil for the vagabonds to steal;
Each heart beat, a mournful wren,
Humming sadly in a long B-flat.
Each of my tiny corpuscle wails till I sleep,
Not, a day, I can taste the sweetness of the magenta sun.

My nights, ever, freezing, a refrigerator;
Each of my blanket stains with the bittiest blood;
Crimson dews fade like tarnished roses
Whose petals, one by one, lands on the soggy soil.
My unborn star, a gradual change from cyan to black,
Never has his chance to smell the perfume of his true father.

I, a priceless princess, will never dance my first real wedding Tango.