Alone in your ***,
Your roots cruelly clipped and trimmed,
You are diminished.

How windswept you look,
Your gnarled limbs styled and designed
To create mere mood.

No longer are you
A tree with limbs stretching free,
Spreading your wild seeds.

No wind stirs you now,
No longer a home for birds
Your being's reduced.

Bound to cruel fashion
Like a Chinese woman's feet,
You have been enslaved.

Mere decoration,
Nature becomes artefact
Tamed to appear wild.

So does the artist
Clip imagination when
Bowing to fashion.

So does the artist,
In serving gods of style,
Diminish himself.