Jacob Hutson

Mary, Mary

I

Mary was born as all others in her family were,

Born into money,

Born into wealth,

Born into the things that people wish for pleasure.

Mary had a hard working father, and loving mother.

One whom she didn’t see often and one whom she loved like no other.

Mary, Mary; living in her childhood free,

Pure and ignorant of sin.

Everyone loved her, everyone adored,

A perfect white rose was she.

II

Into her teenage years Mary did go,

With her wishes,

With her wants,

With her dreams of the future in tow.

Her father was replaced by a boy who’s ever present

And her mother was forgotten,

Where friends and companionship was her mother’s love replaced.

Mary, Mary; leaving behind her childish innocence,

Gathering her friends and companions,

Reveling in the pleasures untold,

Her purity quickly becoming past tense.

III

Mary was at a party one night,

Living a dream,

Living in sin,

Living to party was hers by right.

When her boyfriend offered her something new, something fresh,

She did not know what it was, what it could do,

But how could she refuse her boyfriend Seth,

When he offered her a line of meth.

Mary, Mary; far faraway is your childhood now,

Partying until the sun comes up

Snorting up lines of white powder.

Who for pleasure would you bow?

IV

Mary is now living the dream,

Without a care,

Without a worry,

Without anything to fear it would seem.

Her boyfriend is mostly gone now, going to other girls for his pleasure,

But every once and awhile he would return to give Mary a piece of the white angel,

While he would get something of a mess and a tangle.

Mary, Mary; now without a care or companion in the world,

But she doesn’t need them now,

She has what she wants and gets what she needs.

She knows not, however, how her life has curd’ld.

V

Mary has changed much since you youth,

Her body ever aging,

Her skin growing more pale,

Her addiction satisfying everything but the truth.

She cares not for her ailment,

For she cannot see how she has been corrupted,

Tainted by the meth that she has befriended,

And pushing away all help that is lended.

Mary, Mary; why can’t you see what is happening to you,

Can’t you see the lines of age scarring your face of youth?

Can you not see your skeletal visage that cries out for help?

Or are you beyond all hope of feeling any rue?

VI

Mary looks nothing like her former self, resembling something more like the living dead.

Snorting up lines of meth,

Snorting up all she can,

Snorting until there’s nothing left, then laying down her head.

Blood slowly began to fill around her nostrils,

While vomit reached the corners of her mouth.

Her eyes began to glaze over,

And as she slept she looked little more than a collection of fossils.

Mary, Mary; this is what your life has become,

You sought nothing but pleasure,

And thus you had received,

But now your body cannot take anymore, growing cold and numb.

VII

Mary is in a coma now, not able to live or die.

Wallowing in her pain,

Wallowing in her misery,

Wallowing and knowing not the reason why.

Lying on a hospital bed, she is lost in her thoughts,

Left to think upon her past crimes and sins,

Praying for life, but wishing for death,

Asking God whether this was the fate she had bought.

Mary, Mary; praying to God to wash away her sin,

Sorry for the life of pleasure she led,

Showing remorse for the things she had done,

Promising to change her ways if she were blessed to live again.

VIII

Mary seems to have been forgotten in her state,

And although she cannot see, she is still aware;

And although she cannot speak, she can still hear;

And although none of her friends come to see her, her mother comes to visit and often stays up late.

When her mom visits, she often tells Mary about her day,

She lets her daughter know that she isn’t forgotten,

That she will always love her no matter what.

She tells her everything will be okay.

Mary, Mary; who can’t tell her mother that she is sorry, though she tries.

When in the end Mary did pray to God to forgive her of her sins,

To which Merciful God granted her thus.

Then, in peace and harmony, Mary dies.

IX

Into deepest sleep Mary did go, and then she awoke a short time after,

Not knowing where she was,

Not realizing that she was dead,

Not even when she heard a maniacal laughter.

All at once she felt the hot flames lick her body,

Writhing and burning in agony, till no end.

No remorse for those who have sinned a terrible sin,

Or any to those who had done something rather naughty.

Mary, Mary; did scream and cry,

Throwing a stream of curses at her tormentors.

Wailing in sorrow, wailing in agony,

Demanding to know the reason why.

X

Mary was left there burning in hell,

Left in that dark place,

Left in the place that ever burns,

Left with someone whom she knew quite well.

Beside her in the flames was her old boyfriend Seth,

And unlike Mary, he knew his crimes and why he was there.

He kicked and screamed and cried,

Paying for all the lives that he had put to death.

Mary, Mary; after what seemed like years, God has finally heard her,

Taking pity on his child, and deciding to give Mary an answer for her “why,”

Deciding that it was best for her to know.

To which God did reply, “Mary, Mary you are here for murder.”

XI

Mary was left stunned, taken aback from the chilly proclamation.

“Tell me who I have wronged so,”

“Tell me to whom I committed such an atrocity,”

“Tell me anything that might grant me emancipation.”

Mary begged the Lord to give her just one more answer,

To tell her who had been murdered by her hand.

Once again, Almighty God complied with her request,

Telling her the tale of her life as a cancer.

“Mary, Mary; I have forgiven you of your life both sinful and wild,

But the act of murder cannot simply be forgotten.

You had your fun, had your pleasure,

But then you went and murdered you child.”

XII

Mary’s sentence in hell would be carried out for all eternity,

Guilt would become her companion,

Guilt would be her ultimate punishment,

Guilt for the death of her unborn child, and her poor maternity.

Mary’s child, her baby girl, will never know what it is like to live,

She will never learn to ride a bike,

Never grow old with the one she loves.

In heaven she will be, along with all the angels, and all those who love to give.

Mary, Mary; let this be a lesson to all those who do not seek a horrible life or death,

To those who desire pleasure for themselves above all else,

For those who forsake the love of others,

Perhaps your sacrifice will teach the dangers of meth.

Roses

A bed of roses,

Filled with many bright colors;

The reds for passion,

Yellows for unending joy,

And the whites for innocence.

Are you a bright red?

Does passion fill up you soul

With the love of life?

Are you a yellow?

Where even on the bad days

Your spirit soars with birds.

Or are you a white?

One whose soul is clean and pure,

Living without sin.

These are some colors,

There are many, many more,

Of roses deep in hue.

If you had to choose just one

What color would describe you?

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