When Suicidal Becomes Homicidal

In the depths of night and the edge of day,

In a mind where shadows and light play,

There's a soul, once lost, now finding its way,

Learning self-love, like a sunray's stray.

But beware, oh ye who scorn and jeer,

For the path from despair is crystal clear,

A heart, long broken, mends in fear,

Of turning inward pain, outward, severe.

Once suicidal, a mind so fragile,

In the labyrinth of thoughts, so volatile,

Learns self-love, a journey, not just a mile,

But scorn it, and it becomes something hostile.

For a soul that's danced with its own demise,

Knows the edge of darkness, the silent cries,

Teach it love, it sees through lies,

But hurt it, and the darkness multiplies.

In the mirror of self-love, reflections change,

From despair to power, within range,

A soul that's known pain, can strangely arrange,

Feelings, from suicidal to something strange.

This tale, oh asshole, isn't just a rhyme,

It's a warning, through the sands of time,

Care for the broken, with love, not just dime,

Or risk turning their pain into a crime.

In the end, it's about the balance we strike,

Between love and hate, alike,

For a soul once lost, finding love is like,

Turning darkness to light, a hopeful hike.

But scorn it, and the light may flicker and fade,

In the heart where once peace was made,

Remember, with love, foundations are laid,

But with hate, even self-love can invade.