Wilted

Those flowers in my heart are now wilting. The petals are growing in my throat, sealing me shut. As the flowers wilt so do I. The thorns, tug at my skin, creating wounds that came from inside. The sun is dead in my eyes, no light to keep the flowers alive. No water to hydrate the flowers, all that water was shed in tears. There is none left to water the flowers. Here my heart wilted and so do I. The soil for the roots has poured from wounds shed like blood. This flower is now wilted. For other flowers to grow. As this flower in my heart wilts so does the seeds. The other flowers slowly grow through blood and tears shed. One has to die for the others to grow.