To a Big Fat Liar, Upon My Exit

 

 

If a thorne'd rose I hand to thee,

Don't prick yourself and cry to me

Your blush'd salute was my intent

Not whatever else you may have spent

A tainted word I never spoke

Nor gave anyone a diseased poke -

Your happiness my one desire

When balanced you atop my spire

Now I lie here sad with grief

Though in undeniable relief -

Why has my offering been so scorned

When you yourself begged to be thorned?

A parting wish I'd love to make -

That you give due honor to my snake

And let lovely angels up on high

Witness your true response upon my thigh.