There was a softness in me, coveted, beloved, my soul and body filled with rot a decaying, spreading decomposition, an instability I could not hide. the putrefaction showed in every word I spoke. it spoke of weakness and vulnerability. In order to survive, I ravaged myself, tore out every mailable piece, and cut away my roots, I removed myself from the soil which had so corrupted, and now I grow, missing pieces and hollowed out, but I am still here, and I am no longer soft, but instead I am withstanding and hardened