really nothing much to say...
except the tree!
I know how the roots take hold,
but we forget the soul,
so when these foul winds blow again
our hands and our hearts in-twain,
and if it's gonna fall down on me
I would rather it fall more like a leaf,
I percieve the plants in pain,
in some sort of way we even spoke.

so much sorrow in the willow
down beside the river's edge,
late at night
you can even hear her cry,
oh my lonesome weary always weeping broken willow,
you should know
you're beautiful.
you're forever

well just the other day
me and this ****
dandelion, I recall
yellow flowers, three feet tall
he was pleading I would spare him from his doom
I never guessed unwanted guest were death obessed,
consumed and stressed by paranaioa never resting
a given life unwanted test
I asked,"what would you do if you were me?"
and he said