No good for shade
No good for the garden
Harsh light that doesn't fade
No fruits to be laid
For underneath
The roots are all frayed
The leaves they're all rotten
They're good as forgotten
I see it's looming silhouette
sharp
contrast
To the mystical glow of the pale moon
To the cynical lows of our existential gloom
Details eating at my brain with their redundancy
Black clouds as they loom
Patience slivered to a dried prune