The Black Tulip

Black tulip, born in the frost of winter,
Black tulip, maimed by an attic splinter,
Black tulip, bloom in sinister streets,
Black tulip, lay still in shelter sheets,
Black tulip, your petals mustn’t peep out,
Black tulip, allow not even a shadow of doubt,
Black tulip, you are small and wild, full of life,
Black tulip, they’re coming to tell you it’s all a lie,
Your aura and dreams and hopes and skills,
To them, plucking you is but a cheap thrill,
Black tulip, what are you going to do?
They will not hear your pleas, they will show no ruth,
You cannot run and you are already hidden,
You must stay silent and forever vase-ridden,
Black tulip, don’t cry, black tulip, don’t fret,
They have not come to steal you just yet,
Black tulip, I can feel you quivering in the dark,
But, black tulip, I know you’ve left your mark,
I can see your wine-tinted thoughts pressed
Into diary pages where they’ll forever rest,
Until eventually igniting the spark to a story
Of a little black tulip and her tragic glory;
Alas, black tulip, the time has come to bid adieu,
But no matter what they do,
I’ll always remember you.