i am growing weary, i am growing cold
i sleep in the day, at night i stare at the walls
i am growing shallow, i am not growing at all
like a small forest pond, in the season of draught

i am growing hollow, as if i forgot how to speak
out of my words nothing can grow, flowers on the sill whithering
i am growing thin, leaking out into the void
my body a waterless stream, an impression in the soil

i am growing still, i am growing silent
like a burned down forest, a songless monument
i am growing thin, i am growing vain
like a watered down paint, a pictureless frame