Explanation: Some broken promises, some broken dreams, more broken promises, more broken dreams, a bit of French, and a curious ending. MEDICATE IT!
He promised to kill me quietly under the moon
so that tomorrow I wouldn’t have to endure
this wretched pain that I feel now.
A heart! This heart! What heart? My heart!
Beating as soundly as the unmelodious piano
that the black-tailed man overlooked.
Echoes, with the yawns of the unvigilant guards,
Bounce onto me and disperse rapidly like
bubbles on a tangy dandelion.
What happened to the promise that I’d be free?
It ran away with lingering dreams of
lollipops and becoming the governess of a mansion.
Je ne parle francais pas bien… Though
I do know how to roll the R’s, and sometimes
alone, in the dark, I sip the champagne.
Lastly, if there were but a single cannonball left
who- what- would take the blight?
Or would a musket shot be more straightforward?
