And lastly, I
Would **** myself
Shoot myself in the heart
In the hole
Where you had planted flowers in
while you were asleep, you
Pulled them out, one, by one.
And left a gaping hole – nothing left but
The petals.
Because then,
It would finally be filled,
By the notions of self despair and
Self loathing.
What a joy to be dead in the heart.
What a delight indeed.