After years of growing-
After a hundred years-
After being out in the wilderness
And watching the birds and the squirrels
make a home of my branches
I've been chopped down,
cut to pieces,
separated from myself.
And this is what you use of me?
I´ve been stapled to 99 other pages,
shoved between plastic or cardboard,
And left on this empty shelf to be alone.
Im blank,
unused,
wasted,
You could draw on me...
but NO!
the least you could do
is fold me into a paper airplane so i can fly
like the birds that once lived in my branches
so i can be whole once again.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 1:18 PM UTC
After years of growing-
After a hundred years-
After being out in the wilderness
And watching the birds and the squirrels
make a home of my branches
I've been chopped down,
cut to pieces,
separated from myself.
And this is what you use of me?
I´ve been stapled to 99 other pages,
shoved between plastic or cardboard,
And left on this empty shelf to be alone.
Im blank,
unused,
wasted,
You could draw on me...
but NO!
the least you could do
is fold me into a paper airplane so i can fly
like the birds that once lived in my branches
so i can be whole once again.