Flowers And Festivity Poem by Enchanting Owl

I used to blindly love you with bawdy.
Encrypting your beautiful name for my soul and body.
Offering you festive tables and freshly picked flowers.
I was willing to be your loyal follower.

But the wave of truth came with a sad psalm.
The entry is the thorn palm; the exit is the bold qualm.
I pleaded rough with you not to fall in love with someone.
I prayed hard for you not to wait for anyone.

This is the basal stigma in my heart.
Stigma that can't be healed through endless time; a drifting art.
Stigma that repudiated happiness and acceptance.
Reason I kept drowning instead of ascendance.

Pride is like a snake killing its bland prey.
Suffocation is addiction; sighing is deep quarry.
You stepped on the flowers and refused my call for a feast.
In my eyes, you are now the castle ghastly beast.