I keep dead flowers for my cruelty.
Inconsiderate me, and thousand dead flowers.
Dancing on a dying man’s heart and sleeping
That joyful slumber of the cats while you watch them.
God, if thy claims are true,
Thou must be angry with this unruly child
For I am not thy sheep. Silly sheep.
I am an unfeeling lady with interests.
It is not a habit.
It is my eyes which stare,
Eyes carved unskillfully on objects which see me.
You won’t call me cruel
Because you love me, and I know it
Even while I watch you
I know it
Even while I kill you, die
My widow dance would be an event
Of the highest scale
So I will walk free,
Sly criminal, covered in flowers,
Yes, the price one pays for freedom.