The Blossom Tree

As I stand at the edge of the cliff,
I hear a whisper call my name.
The blossom tree wonders,
If this is better pain.

I tell the tree I must do what's best,
And with out I thought, I jump.
In hope that I will soon be at rest,
When I hit the ground with a thump.

As I fall I hear a scream,
A familiar voice is calling.
No. Stop! Just like the dream,
But I just keep on falling.

I see the face that called for me,
The only one who knew.
But the face did not look happy,
As I flew and flew and flew.

They asked why I did it,
They all want to know. But the face keeps it secret,
And does not put on a show.

The gravestone is cold and silent.
The tree grieving with care.
They should have put me in an asylum,
But the pain I would not bear.

I want the face to laugh with joy.
But instead it seems sad.
Why can't it be happy and enjoy,
Instead of being mad.

It does not understand that I was happy.
It was the last voice I heard.
But still it is unhappy,
And now it feels hurt.

As the face stands at the edge of the cliff,
It hears a whisper call it's name.
The blossom tree wonders if,
I am out of my pain.