The Black Dove

I am the girl with the black dove on her shoulder The creature made of selfishness and sin More self-centered than you could hope to be. I hold the black dove under my chin. I protect it from the rain FRom the scorn From the pain. I protect the black dove. But the dove does not love me. It digs its claws into my hand, Into my shoulder Into my neck. Draw up drops of ruby blood And slips its poision within. I am the girl with the black dove, And its slowly killing me. Until I decide to wring its neck... Then it becomes up to me, To bury the black dove in the garden, And pray it makes no poison tree. I'll never water this fowl seed But I pray it doesn't come back to haunt me.