The gown that i ask for.
Is way too much.
Maybe, juz maybe.
I want that Gown.
For Centuries I've begged.
Anyone, at anyplace, anytime.
I juz want-- that Gown.
The Gown of Rue,
very simple, indeed.
Jet-black satin with butterfly bow,
with thick white elastic band.
No zippers, no buttons,
fully constructed by hands.
It is not of something new,
worn by scads,
not even of secondhand fabrics,
very ancient, indeed.
they won't let me have it,
for those unknown reasons.
And I also,
juz want, that bubble shaped Veil--
Of Maudlin, to be worn under the
Tiara of Glum, made up
of the blemish Diamonds of Contrite.
They refuse to let me wear it, until
a tidy sum of weariness starts to mingle,
and they are hardly listening
to the voice of my tormented soul.
they drown me in Glorious
iridescent taffeta of white tulle,
with sequins beading on the front
that it shines with the natural brilliance
of the blue-white that is worn on my ring finger,
Felicity is reflected upon their faces,
as my arms are enveloped by the bell sleeves;
that flare between my elbows and my wrists, and
mirth is expressed,
as the Princess length wraps
upon my head down to my knees.
they are giving the best for me,
but my heart is bleeding,
suffering for the desolated dreams.
As the majestic tiara
is placed upon my head,
my soul gives up,
and I die.