suicide is a carefully
groomed blossom
warmed with the
sun-scorching
self-hatred that
hangs in the corner
of the mind
in a yellow-crayon
semi-circle
scribbled out in
insults and name-calling.
it roots itself
deep in the soil
of the soul
and the tears that
water it so well
are those of your loved ones
standing over a grave
of ash-white chrysanthemums
whose petals are
heavy with grief.
The Poetry Addict 