Would birds leave my
branches and leaves?
Will I die and rot
on my own here ?
I wish I could silence you my friend
but you sing at me,
as they do.
You always
come back to me,
more powerful.
Will you dry my roots?
No water
No clouds...
I can not move.
It is slow... this dying of thirst,
desert like and painful.
For once, I wish to be
more dynamic then you. |
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