I see a stick as I am walking
Tis not a branch or a twig
Truly a stick, smaller than the branch, bigger than a twig
I do not want to see this stick laying on the ground        
No, this stick needs to be with its tree
But it is clear from the end, it is not to be
It is truly like me
Broken, snapped from its branch
It was probably just in the way
An obstacle per chance
It was not a means to an end
It was in the way, unable to bend
What was once full of life
Now lays in the dirt, no longer right
It's bark that once was hard to break
Now is brittle, starting to flake
How funny that this stick reminds me of me
I guess I too was just in the way of thee