roses are dead

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you
But the roses are wilted and the violets are dead.
And the sugar is all gone except the .45 pointed to my head.
As I sit and think on my life
A cold voice says
“Do it why live?”
And right before I pull the trigger to my life
I hear a tiny movement by my door
And an ever so confused voice says
“Daddy why die?”





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