a worn out thought.

I am covered in my vale, as all wishes scatter and succumb.1

I am but an image of an old, worn out thought replayed over and over in my lovers minds.2

I carry roses one for each wound.3

I carry thorns for each child we`ve lost too soon.4

I do not hold back my lovely air, I only hope, others would gladly sink within its melody.5

I am now a bundle within a bud, covered with the slimy substance that is fear, thrown out of my mothers womb , much too soon, plucked and tucked, and told, to make my heart cold.6

for there will be those who will try to set it on fire.7

I was rapped in my vale and was dusted with powder and smeared with rouge, I was.8

and I was forced into back aching , clicking shoes.9

I was bound to have a lover, I was prohibited to have another, but I had another, and another, and another.10

and now,I am but a worn out thought in my lovers minds.11