you suddenly realize our bodies are so temporary like trees that age
the only difference is that the carvings in my trees are painful scars
the carvings in your tree is full of hope while despair fills my gaps
and through the cracks are dynamite so don't use an axe or saw
your love is enough for me, maybe i'll grow fruit someday
maybe my roots will intertwine with yours across the forest
maybe beautiful fawns will notice me and prance my way
but what does it even matter, we will all die anyway
the trees die, the prettiest of flowers die, vines and grass take over
castles will disintegrate, houses will disintegrate, and i will be forgotten
what's the point when history won't remember my existence?

-kra