Sapling

Cold flat-line's wailing cry,
Draw the light out of life;
Never to feel whole again—
Vibrancy withered in spring.

Anguished calls crawl the lines,
Sobs speak the final lullaby.

Plague-stricken last portrait,
Tattooed in memory’s woeful ink;
Never to fade—
Ration off a permanent heart space.

Time’s design veils eyes;
Blind, but to suffer in life.

Love’s bittersweet burden,
To exchange pain and joy;
Sustained in agony,
Nourished in beauty.

To be plucked before bloom,
Cruel truth of our birthright.