I sit at the edge of a creek
It's the middle of the night
Warm air is blowing over me
I listen the the whispers of the water

My eyes melt, molten metal
My brain comes to a grinding halt
Faulty machinery anyways
Grass and leaves overgrow me

Thousands of years pass
I only catch glimpses of them
A life lived through dreams
I only feel through the soil

My roots grow past uneven ground
Touching dark waters
My bark hard and brittle
Protects my gentle sap

My leaves drink supple sunlight
This elegant growth is slow
Grass pushes up around me
In this life I am drowning