In winding paths a pale, pretty girl walks
Like Molly Malone
Wheeling her barrow
Through the city streets narrow
Selling flowers
Only this time someone could have saved her
But alas she went singing her own way
Where the sun shines bright
Prognosis is grim
Where the flowers grow lovely
All around her
At the dark bank where the River Lethe flows
Such purple blooms of Bella Donna glow
Fruit like live black eyes
Tattered leaves on stems
They told her they would heal her
She believed them
So she gathers them to heal others too
Sooner or later I do not know when
Her coffin will go
To an unknown grave
And they will all weep and wail
Cry why oh why
Did she die in such an untimely way?
They will say she did not laugh quite enough
Not honest enough
Did not love herself
As she synthesizes thoughts
So cure means heal
Sucks the goodness of the earth through a straw
She is desperate but they don’t know that
All her fairy friends
All her well-wishers
As they laud love and applaud
All this Queen’s men
Time time running out is not on her side.
It’s one thing to toast death before dying
And another to
Pretend it’s not there
Where the chasm is crashing shut
No exit clear
For how long will you wheel your wheelbarrow?
-Megan Payne
