Seventeen

Sunflowers worship, while the pain disintegrates
It drips, it suffocates, and the stars illuminate through his bloody fingers
His single step, a red puddle of mistakes
String like tree branches, his limbs go
Into the soft dirt
It pours over him in the glossy forest of purity, and faith
Limbs tremble, fingers bare, chest ruffled in skin, his body lingers
The clouds awaken
Swirling over his body, like vultures
They land.