The beautiful sound of rain
Engulfing my brain.
Thinking of the rain,
Causes nothing but pain.
He was everything but love was slain.
Like a hurricane
Leaving destruction and pain.
Is why I am insane.
"I must go tend to the roses," he said
but when they found him he was already dead.
The beautiful white roses now stained red,
they panic at the sight of their brother laying, yet not a single tear is shed.
The family knew it was all in his head,
the depression and voices are the reason he is now dead.
They stand, looking at the cut upon his wrists with every word unsaid,
unlike most families, there were no tears, but smiles instead.
Knowing that he had finally escaped the voices in his head.
— The End —