writing The Enemy

[Pan the Fabulous Ferret 2,642]

Know that your enemy was born of thorns

Striving to be felt and pushed away for what it was

The calling of blood from the tip of it’s being

This… enemy…

 

Feel this flower for what it is

Deem it worthy for your gentle skin

As the point draws near under its false allure

Pretentious enemy, cloaked in beauty

Do you know of pain from other’s touch?

 

Cut from stems of which its lover and mother were born

Deviating from the path that the fates orchestrate

Falling forth from stranger sights then all the world

To be plucked from the skin, this, my enemy

Only to be followed by the blood, red as the rose

Of which was the flower, the mother and lover of this enemy

 

And so your enemy was born of thorns, and of blood

From stranger’s bodies which hold the power of minds

All to judge the murder and creation of your enemy

 

-David Favret