The Soul Of A Dead Flower

 
"This head is bowed,
I'm at an all time low,
And my daisy's bloom;
Is in droop."

-Reflections of my heart's,
Weeping willow.

It's the weight of the world,
Carried upon this tired back,
That in turn,
Has crushed all of my leaves.

For these roots crawl,
Within this tainted soil;
Making everyday,
So much harder to breathe.

How this disease, has wrapped it's sorrow,
Along the edges of my fragile neck.
And stemming inside, these poisoned-filled veins,
Are piercing thorns, that tighten their grip.

Oh!- How these weeds do strangle,
Upon the tiredness of my soul,
And I desperately plead to be forgiven,
As I longingly pray, to be let go.

And as I stretch these petals above,
Onto these endless, and unforgiving skies,
These elongated leaves, start yearning-
An unquenched thirst; reflected inside hungry eyes.

So may the Gods above in heaven,
Take their reapers scythe to me,
And harvest these remaining seeds,
That are all but left, inside of me.

Because even the well of this heartache,
That's been poured from leftover tears...
This garden inside of me, kept dying.
Even with tending, after so many years.

"Depression,
Is a lonely, forgotten bouquet-
Plucked whole."

-An unarranged life.
 
(The crazy quotes, on top and bottom, I made up in the last minute. They just seemed to fit, in a strange kind of way....)