Best Childhoodrose Poems
I sleep. The hours tick by mercilessly;
Unfilled, purposeless, full of potential.
“What to do? What to do???”
I mutter, tumbling,
Like Alice, down the rabbit hole.
My hands push down ballooning petticoats.
Careful not to show or touch anything.
I twirl beneath the pile down comforters.
The hours tick by crimson red;
And in the dream, the rose Queen shouts.
“Off with HER HEAD!”
An eyebrow is plucked whole from my face.
It falls matted and to the ground
Leaving me, brow akimbo, surprised, and horrified.
“What to do? What to do? What to do???”
Half shorn. Half drawn. Half born?
A painter’s pallet appears before me.
A brow is drawn… for me.
Yet, the Rose Queen still screams on.
“Off with HER HEAD!” “Off with HER HEAD!”