writing

Poison Ivy

You picked a fresh, untouched daisy,
Said “it’s almost as pretty as you”
How many petals did you pick, baby?
I wish I only knew.

You destroyed my petals,
But they grew back as thorns,
With the steadfast glaring promise,
I wouldn’t again get burned.

In the field, I rose tall,
And spread my deadly thorns.
I rose from the ashes, honey,
Because my flower doesn’t burn.

You thought you’d dodge my thorns,
If you picked your flowers wisely.
Little did you know, babe,
That I was really poison ivy.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s