A beautiful white flower sway and bend in the wind.
The gray clouds swim around in a dark rolling sky over a valley.
The wind catches the last delicate petal, plucked.
Yanked from the ground, like the cut like a baby's umbilical cord.
The stem gripped in the girl's hand as she pushes through trees,
The little white delicate petal hangs deathly ill on it's stem.
As she comes to the clearing, she sees the cliff.
drops to her knees,
Asking and pleading with God, "why, why me?".
Blood drips from every square inch of her body.
She prays with the petal in her hands and her hands touch her brow.
A gust of wind sprinkles the pieces of a once beautiful white petal.
Once attached to its own mother, into the sky: gone.