Gaijin

A rose in the land of the rising sun
Potted in concrete and pollution
The saccharine fragrance is fading fast
Petals wilted and dehydrated
Suffocating in the darkness
Thorns bloated with emptiness
There’s an nectar of melancholy
That trickles through an emaciated stem
But its tainted with rage
Fertilizing the roots with emotional chaos.

A rose is the land of the rising sun
Speaks in dead tongues
Talk to me
Water me
Stroke me
Feed me
Love me
Shelter me
Humor me
Deaf ears and blinders ignoring the pain.

In the Land of the Rising sun
A rose is foreign to the natives
Foreign is exploited yet unwanted
Coveting yet isolating
Thoughtless thoughts of thoughtfulness
A constant ray of insanity
Morning mantras of negativity
Fragments of a once beautiful self
Elementally broken and unstable.