i cherised ourselves in silence breeze
at every corner of crowd we've cultured together
and on every personalities i've dictaded
i've grown my trees on you

yet you put an end to my tree

i should had known you're my lumberjack behind me
brought axe sharpened behind my corner
you'd warmed me by the fireplace
branches by branches

from the trees i've nurtured on you

at least i still get warmth for a second
a milli if i could tell
at least i still get warmth

and i asked
and i asked you
for once
you said
you put effort on your tree
you cared too much for me
you've watered it down
with sweet sweat with sour tears
for me

but i still smell me on your fire
mahogany vanilla, fresh autumn
orangish purple, i could visioned

and i asked
and i asked you
million times
all you said was
it was your tree
your ******* tree
your tree that you couldn't named of
what was the wood what was the fruit
what was it? you didn't know
lame

i extinguished flame you engulfed
that only affected on us
your option was go and go away
some i couldnt choose
i let myself stranded in your tiny little miniature
of towns you've built over my anxiety
by words youve trashed down
on my feelings
if i stay, i'd soaked my soil with my ***** tempest
if i go, i 'd walked on invisible string gagged and blindfolded

i choose to stay
growing trees on anger
i bow down
if i stand up
i could see all direction
and i could see you watering down
your tree on your person
such a gardener you are

My heart is hollow and empty
I have no vacancy of our binding entity’s  that once lived there equally combined
Your ghost is a impending haunting of memory that dwells inside
I long for an exorcism to make you flee from my “fist wrapped in blood”
Your every step  
laid down a trifling path leading me to the gallows within shadows
How could you do this?

More than not spend all day in bed
Remarkable how depression works around the clock
By the time I manage to raise my head
Sheep gather to be counted in a flock

I don't have enough room up there for it to be all in my head
From the heaping piles of motionless dreams strewn across the floor, looking pretty dead
To the racks on racks on racks in multiple mile high stacks of things I wish I'd not said
Can't put the issues to rest if I myself can't drum up the will to get out of bed
It's not strictly fear I feel whilst preparing for checkout, it's the overbearing weight of dread

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