the inside of me is overgrown with moss and kudzu.
tell me i am an issue,
cut me down and yell timber.

don't make it a question
make it an exclamation.
a statement of the things you've destroyed
to make room for something new,
but not bright eyed.

i am an overgrown tree
with roots too far into the darkness
of the cool dirt-
smell the musky scent of my bark
after the rain.

even if the rain couldn't wash this away,
at least your ax stopped it
from growing.

no matter how low to the ground
you cut me down
i will still have
my roots.