Set your trap in its upright position,
Reset the faults on your color scheme,
Lay down your lines in detailed honey,
To comb this appendage of your dream,

You were worth the wondering,
And all the sting that rises still,
Set out to be a healer,
Left to choke on your own pill,

Segregating harmony
To fit the template of your prayer,
Seeking wisdom from the crime,
Dividing what was never there,

Despite this coded message,
Which you were meant to send,
Fallen to this privilege,
You found the will to mend,

Perfecting this image and loading your scene,
Recounting the nectar you harvest in vain,
Fluttering over the answer,
In self-inflicted pain,

You had the only soothing
In flower-blossom balm,
Set out to be a healer,
Who drowned in her own calm,

You love how tea caresses you
The way your father never could,
Detaching from the nucleus
In your suburban neighborhood,

You give the gentle petals tremor
And die to save your hive,
A drawstring on your collapsible heart,
You tear it out to stay alive,

You brought the only comfort,
With a sweet uniquely pure,
Set out to be a healer,
Left dying from the cure.