Prickly languid pear. Hold fast against the wilted branch.
Thank the tree for its regard; the limb that decayed the least. O' how my will hangs as I do above the death who brought us this rot Pear, languid and prickly. Tenacious pride claws and bites at morbid despair and lonesome longing; neither victorious.
Ashen sky dust and burn the peel
Languid pear. Pain felt from the dying of the limb that had more than you in the end
Resentment tucked between the anguish. Who brought us this rot? O' how this will fades unable to deliver the cut that will end The branch snaps.
Languid. World devoid; the will of which persists.