My thoughts race as I sit under a weeping willow tree. The branches firm but the leaves dangling in regret - a perfect metaphor for me. I have so much to support me, so much that should keep me standing tall, yet I wither and sway in any way that the wind wants me. I have no control as I move from place to place, external factors forcing me every which way. And while my leaves may be green with the life that is inside of me, I want so badly for my body to give up, but it betrays me. It keeps on living as if it has the passion to do so, while my mind wants nothing more than to be free.