Scorched Eyes
You can’t poison a tongue
That has already licked thorns
With her head dragged
Through a thicket of rose bushes
Eyes scraped from the leaves
Blush pink petals left messed in her hair
Her crown bleeds yet never falls
A voice tells her to appreciate the flowers
Rather than to speak ungratefully
Questioning how she cannot see
The bright side of this sight
As she picks off the thorns from her temples
Her eyes already witnessed horror
Of streets being set fire fueled by laughter
Cackles from those who set flames
While those who supposed to protect
Run around like headless chickens
As homes burn on the street
She remembers the poor girl
Who was slapped for crying over
Her missing rag doll
The one her grandmother made
She wonders how anyone could smile
Upon the sight of ashes
She will no longer be surprised yet
She will always be shocked