Poetry of a Conlanger

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Tears of Resent

Resentment is a weed,
One that you planted inside me.
You opened your mouth-
you shouldn't have done that.
because now, I can't stop it-
it grows, and grows,
and grows,
finally blossoming into a sickly
flower of hate.

It makes my friendflower weep,
to see that hideous bloom.
"But you're friends!"
She cries, tears rolling down in protest.
"it hurts me too!" I reply.
"I never wanted this resentment!"

And now all three of us cry-
My friendflower,
And the sky with us.


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