The breeze is always too brief.
If it were up to me, I'd flee this breath and cease to be.
Photosynthesize the seconds through the leaves
then turn them into questions I'd pleasantly grieve.
His peace fits a sheath in case the routine is to deceive.
Man made me think hence I'm broken to the bleak.
Greet silence with a smile like, "Hi, I'm dying to be quiet.
Pull me apart for the slightest, I promise you I wont fight it."