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These trees before me, sing so peacefully.
Their words are mixed with the breeze...
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I feel nervous at first
as there is only blackness...
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You must want something
really hard to become...
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Victims of bygones,
the tyrants of tomorrows...
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I am broken
I know this fact quite well...
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Am I the only one who sees the
psychology of this situation...
-
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How does one contend?
I see you fishing in the reservoir...
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Life is a disease
that we must recover from...
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I plant my feet firmly into the softened soil,
Digging in my toes until they become my roots...
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I see beds of roses, flourishing from
the earth of your cheeks...
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What good am I if I’m just flesh and bone,
When I scare away everyone that’s mattered...
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2am in the back of the car
Windows down, we’ve not made it very far...