the birth of the narcissus

There is a sign next to you grave, it has the date of your birth but not the one of your death. "I thought you were dead," I say. I'm speaking to no one, yet to everyone. "I want you to be dead!" I yell, "All you do is mess with my heart; you mess with my head!" I fall to the ground, I fall on my knees. I begin to cry. There is no hope, I want to go away. I want to forget you ever existed, I want to cease to exist. I start to run, but I can't get more than 5 feet away, these invisible chains make themselves known. "What is this? Why?" I yell. My love, my obsession, they are both so strong. "I can't go on like this," I whisper. I slowly walk back to the grave and begin to dig with my hands. My tears flow and flow, they water the soil; they empty my heart. When I see it's deep enough I crawl in and let the dirt fall back in as I cry myself to death. If you were to ever come to this grave, you 'll find a date there now; it has the wrong name but finally the heart has killed the person that made it suffer. The tears that once fell, the broken heart that lies there, and the person that caused all the pain have given birth to a beautiful narcissus flower.