collection of me being a silly goose (poetry)

my vaseeeee

tw: triggering sh related words ig fr + death (moreso suicide but that is up to interpretation)

Shattered again.
Fragments fill the floor, wet and infinitesemal.
How am I to pick them all up, once again?
My knees begin to ache, never inured to the pain,
As I collect the pieces with my wounded fingers;
They'll never heal.

Ever more vestigial, the puzzle arises again.
Its pieces have grown fewer: they lessen each time.
Bleeding, my fingers attempt to assemble the structure in futility -
Too many fragments have gone missing, rendering my vase useless.
My flowers are still beautiful in their oblivion to their premature demise.

Without my vase, my cut hands must further endure the agony of the impaling thorns.
They'll never get used to it.
I hold my flowers, I admire them, I smell their sweet scent.
And just for that moment, the anguish is appeased by the aroma.
Perhaps as a thank you, or an attempt to further subside the pain, my flowers are watered a final time;
Not with water, but with the blood that drips to the tips of their stems.

And when they are gone, I go too.
I die with them, within my, our, grave of glass,
The burial bouquet in my grasp, and at least I perish with flowers in my hands -
Fooled by my self-made illusion, I don't rot alone.

idk fr !! it should definitely be improved bc its painfully mediocre but wtv frfrfr its just that i dont kms rn tbh bc i cannot function w all that sadness in me so here it is not that within me anymore (on wattpad instead fr)

take care + ily <3

published july 09! 

a/n 10/2/24 i really really liked this one i read it a lot to prevent me from doing bad things fr - i think its a poem i wrote to cope at the time