Cradle

Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Smothered in feather down

Gone doth laughter go,

Bleeding out like tasteful wine

From broken bottle

From which she stole.

Draped in silent sound

Free doth anger flow,

Demons coddling the mind

From the model

That is the human soul.

Kissed now by dying posies

Decaying bones

And rotting skin, 

Little baby never again

Yet to begin, has met her end.

Reviews

[Stevo The POE-t]

Thanks for sharing it... I enjoyed it... Great read...

[Riley Bray]

Thank you for the review it is humbly received!

[Tai Ryens]

With the sick twist that is the nursery rhyme, you've put an even sicker twist by possibly referring to miscarriage, abortion, or the end of a life yet to begin in the end. I like it.

[Riley Bray]

Ooh I'm glad you caught the nursery rhyme Tai! You also managed to catch the meaning of the poem, which makes me happy to see. Always a pleasure.

[Noah]

Great job on this one, it has great wording.

[Riley Bray]

Hai, arigato. X3