Black rose

The black rose on a wall of while lilies.
I am dark,
They are light.

Fit? I do not fit.
I watch and wish and wait.

They think they know me.
No one knows me.

I must be righteous
I must be innocent
And pure.
Good and kind.
No mistakes.
Perfect.

I cannot be who I am.
They can't won'taccept me as who I am.
An addict. A junkie.
Not an alky
Nor a druggie.
Addicted to blood and pain and scars.

So much hurt, inside and out.
Always searing, always visible
But only to me.

Twisted and beautiful,
The black rose on a wall of while lilies.