A Bed of Roses

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  • Dark

    A Bed of Roses

     A bed of roses is what I lay in,
    Crawling with deceit, decay, and sin.
    My world is perfect, hidden from all eyes.
    Inside, only I see where the shadows reside.
    Wonderful thoughts flow inside my brain,
    Aah!  Such exquisite pain!
    Happiness, joy, and contentment are my friends,
    In my pretend world of memories, where the past is my beginning, middle, and end.
    In this place I reside with false smiling faces;
    They don't realize that it's a charade where we all have our places.
    Don't turn around, for the truth might just shine through,
    Then what are we to do?

    6-3-03

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    joyful commented on A Bed of Roses

    08-07-2009

    I like this one, we all have monsters in the closet. This is a very nice way of putting it. Awesome!!!
    Reply to Comment

    MandyJ

    09/01/2009

    Thanks for your comment to A Bed of Roses. It can be kind of funny how it seems like we can be so many different people wrapped up into one body sometimes. I don't mean that in a weird way either, but it is the only way I can really describe it. God bless! Have a wonderful day. :-)

    laydbak1 commented on A Bed of Roses

    07-01-2009

    If the world we wish we were in won't come to us, then off we go into one where it's all good to us... Looking back up through the mist, we can still see the other one, but for now, we're safe here in our own world, away from theirs... good write..
    Reply to Comment

    dovesofpeace commented on A Bed of Roses

    05-27-2009

    I love this poem because I think it can relate to us all in different ways. Thank you for sharing it and I hope that you will continue to write your poetry on here and yes this is a GREAT site!
    Reply to Comment

    Di commented on A Bed of Roses

    05-25-2009

    SAd poem but a very well worded one. I could picture my self there. A good story line is what catches the eye of the reader. And you caught my eye. Di
    Reply to Comment

    MandyJ

    09/01/2009

    Thanks Di. I appreciate your input. God bless! Have a great day.

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    MandyJ’s Poems (13)

    Title Comments Submitted
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    The Lies to Believe 1 05/28/2009
    A Bed of Roses 4 05/25/2009
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    What's in Between? 1 05/25/2009
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