Daffodil Massacre Poem by Miss Fairytale

Laying
yellow
like little dead suns
Strung out
over rain soaked pavement,
No one sees.

Ripped
Torn like fire in ravenous breeze.
Those little boys
Those little boys killed these tiny girls.

Delicate
So fragile
compared to the dirty hands
that strangled them.

Seems as though clouds
mimic the shade
of this daffodil grave,
All chalk and charcoal
They cry for the dead suns.

I wish I had seen
so I knew where they grew
to put them back to rest
in pieces with their living.

I stroll instead
past the dead ladies
carelessly
Yellow
like a dream moon.